Et Velle Et Perficere
by CrawfordsBiscuits
Summary: Erik is fostered by Christine's parents and sent off to boarding school with her. This is their story. Please read and review. ModerndayAU EC
1. Prologue: Average and Unremarkable

**Et Velle Et Perficere**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own POTO…

**Prologue: Average and Unremarkable**

In an average and unremarkable bunk bed in the centre of an average and unremarkable dorm room, at the rear of an average and unremarkable children's home full of average and unremarkable children, laid a not-so-average and wholly remarkable young man. Enshrouded in shadows, he stared at the white, paint-chipped ceiling, blinking slowly. Of all the hell-holes he had lived in, he hated there the most – the little deceptively cheery old building with its cream coloured exterior walls and the bright-eyed and bubbly children who resided within did not portray, for a moment, the torment he had suffered at their hands.

It had been about four days since his last rejection – from the latest pair of foster parents who had never really wanted him anyway and should have never been allowed through the system in the first place. The man had been a petty thief and a drunkard and his long-suffering wife was now bitter and depraved – both of them had been after no more than the benefits they would receive from the government for taking on a foster-child. And yet, still he had not been good enough even for them. They had chucked him out after a mere fortnight when they finally realised to what great extent he was troubled.

He was not upset that they had not wanted him – he was disgusted to even be in the presence of normal, once-beautiful people who could have had anything if only they'd realised how lucky they were just to be average and totally unremarkable. He had been happy when they'd told him he was being sent back to the social workers. That is, until he'd gotten back to the home in all its austerity and, for the twelfth time that year, he had regretted every single misdemeanour he had ever committed in his life that had led him to end up there.

When he'd been left there for the first time as a small child by a widowed mother who could not cope with him, he had not been the sort of child that couples would want to adopt. The only people who wanted to foster the little sharp-tongued and quick-witted masked boy were the type of people to see him as a way of defrauding the benefits department. None of them had been able to handle him for very long and, over the years, he'd lost his childish hope of a happily-ever-after ending. Now, as a seventeen-year-old young man, he was even less likely to be adopted by well-meaning people, as they all wanted perfect, beautiful young children to dote upon.

One more year and he would be free. One more year and he could have the world, any way he wanted it. He could live wherever he wanted, as far away from all the dreadful people he had ever met as was possible, and there would be nothing they could do about it – no new foster parents they could thrust upon him, no new versions of Hell to litter his mind and his dreams with.

Perhaps, at last, the boy would be free.

Watching the first flickers of the dawn's light dance across the unremarkable paint-chipped ceiling, the young man sighed sorrowfully. As he lay on his back, clutching the sheets to his chest, a break in the morning clouds outside the curtainless window caused the clear light from the dawning sun to fall across his face and, had anyone been awake to watch, they would have seen the quiet figure shudder as his beautifully crafted white mask lit up and shone in the light. He moaned softly, bringing the covers further up to shield himself from the light, curling in upon himself with quiet grief.

Soon he would have to get up and face another average and unremarkable day in an average and wholly unremarkable world.

Perhaps, one day, if Erik were lucky, the remarkably unremarkable monotony would end, possibly even sooner than he had expected…

* * *

Elsewhere, in a very different dorm room, in a very different and totally extraordinary place, a very different and totally extraordinary young woman lay in bed. Enshrouded in shadows, she stared at the pristine white ceiling, blinking slowly. 

It was just two weeks until the end of term and the beginning of the summer holidays. She would be able to go home again and she couldn't wait. The beautiful young girl was one of only seven full-time boarders at her school in a rural part Britain, who only went home during holidays – there were 107 part-time boarders who went home at weekends as well, and 510 day students who went home every evening.

She knew she was very lucky to attend St. MacNissi's College, or, Garron Tower, as it was known by its students, an exclusive private affair that people less-well-off than herself never had the chance, that is, wealth, to go to. Garron Tower, so-called because it was a castle and once stately home which resided at the top of Garron Point – a high cliff on the picturesque coast of Great Britain – started life in 1848 when Lady Frances Anne Vane, having inherited almost 10,000 acres of land between Glenarm and Garron Point fourteen years previous, erected a castle as her holiday home. It was later converted into a traditional Catholic boarding school and was, therefore, not like any of the modern-built architecturally grotesque monstrosities that passed as schools these days. Yes, she knew she was very lucky but she also knew that, much as she loved her school, she was desperately lonely there, being away from her parents for the best part of the year.

She loved her parents very much, and they, in turn, loved her with all their hearts. They were very caring people who were also foster parents, regularly taking on less advantaged children and those less likely to be adopted by others. They had nobody with them at the minute – the last child having recently gone back to his mother when she had gotten her situation sorted out. However, it was likely that, very soon, they would have another child to take care of. And, though she was very proud of them and even enjoyed helping out, she sometimes felt jealous that her parents were looking after someone else's children more often during the year than they were her.

Two more weeks and she would be able to see them again. Two more weeks and she would forget her loneliness and her jealousy for the following month until she would have to return to school again.

Perhaps, just perhaps, it would be enough.

Watching the first flickers of the dawn's light dance across the pristine white ceiling, the young woman groaned regretfully. It was morning already and she'd spent half the night thinking. She had known she would regret it at the time but still she had stayed awake. She thanked goodness it was a Sunday so she would not have to get up for a few hours until it was time to go to Mass at midday. As the clear morning light began to fall across her face, she groaned more loudly, bringing the covers over her head to try to get as much sleep as she could.

Perhaps, one day, if Christine were lucky, the loneliness would ebb, possibly even sooner than she had expected…

* * *

Elsewhere, later that day, in an equally very different room, in an equally very different but still entirely amazing place, an equally very different but still entirely amazing middle-aged man stood, holding a telephone receiver to his left ear. Swathed in beautiful filtered morning light, he stared out of the bay window in the second floor sitting room of his country house, blinking slowly. 

It had been about a week since the foster-child he and his wife had most recently been taking care of had been reintroduced to life with his mother, now that she had herself sorted out. Apparently, the child was doing very well and social services were very pleased with the work they had done. The system, of course, had its faults but there were times, such as these, that made it all worthwhile. The handsome, curly-haired man nodded approvingly as the woman on the other end of the line spoke to him of the boy and his mother's progress.

Unlike the majority of foster-carers, the curly-haired man and his wife did not receive benefits from the government for taking care of foster children – in truth, they did not need them as they were quite well-off themselves. They took on foster children for the sheer enjoyment of helping them and, the curly-haired man believed, the children could sense that – they knew that he was not being paid to care for them, that he did, in fact, want to care for them anyway. He believed that all children were good enough – that no child was ever beyond help.

The vibrant-looking curly-haired man and his wife, a beautiful woman just a few years his junior, were, themselves, blessed with a child they loved with all their hearts. They had a perfect sixteen-year-old daughter, to whom they had given everything – the best education, the best love in world, and the best of themselves. She boarded at the very best "public," that is, private, school which met their requirements and they knew that she loved it there. Garron Tower was not your run-of-the-mill high school – it was a traditional British Grammar School renowned for its high grades and the success and, often, fame in their fields, of its past-pupils. And Christine was not your run-of-the-mill sixteen-year-old girl – for one thing, she was in the year above her age-group at school and she had been made a prefect a year early. They both knew that Christine was more than they could ever have hoped for and they also knew that other people's children were not always so lucky to have been given her chances in life. Therefore, and not-half due to their great love for children, they had become foster-parents.

Standing off to one side listening to her husband's side of the conversation was a dark-haired, straight-haired beauty, gently thumbing through a broadsheet. She could not imagine being happier than she had been since she'd met him all those years ago, had Christine and taken up foster care with him. He made everything seem like an adventure – he was so bubbly and energetic, like a child himself – that made the world so fun. Not that he couldn't be serious and grown-up when he needed to be – it was what made him such a good father; that ability to be both friend and parent as required.

Two more weeks and she would have her daughter home with her again and everything would be perfect. Two more weeks to wait and they would have one whole month together as a family before she would have to go back to school again.

Perhaps, even, they would have another foster-child to take care of soon enough.

Lifting her head to watch her husband and to try to listen to the faint voice of the woman he was talking to, she watched the clear light dance across the entirely amazing room in which they were. She plopped down in the navy leather armchair by the fireplace and sighed contentedly. Smiling softly, she curled herself up in the chair to listen.

"We're impressed," the social worker said, "nobody else managed to get through to him like you and your wife did."

"Why, thank you," the curly-haired man replied, "of course, I think that you ought to give him _some_ credit too, though. We didn't do all the work – it would have been for nothing if he had not wanted the help."

"Still, you succeeded where others failed. In fact, we have another boy we thought you might be able to help. Erik's older than most of the children you've fostered but we think you're up to the challenge. If you want, I can arrange a meeting for today and if everything's as it should be you'll be able to take him home afterwards."

The curly-haired man laughed softly into the telephone. "Well, you certainly can't be accused of doddling, can you? But, of course, that would be fine. Does two o'clock suit?"

"Two's fine. It'll be at the Stratford. See you then," she replied.

"Yes, will do," he said before hanging up and turning to his wife.

"So?" she questioned.

"We'd better make up another bedroom, sweetheart. We'll have company tonight," he said as he picked his wife up out of the chair and twirled her around by the waist, both of them laughing happily as they so often did.

"Oh, Michael, so soon?" she laughed again.

"Yes, darling, isn't it wonderful? And Christine will be back with us again soon, too. Speaking of whom, we should phone and tell her – she'd want to know. She should be back in her room now, shouldn't she?"

Happily, the curly-haired man leaned forward and embraced his wife. Soon, after they'd talked to their daughter, he would leave for the meeting with their new foster-child and if things went well they would be able to show him life in their very different but also entirely amazing world.

Perhaps, one day, this Erik, if Michael and Sarah Daaé were lucky, would find his own world would become equally very different but still entirely amazing, possibly even sooner than they could have hoped for, and probably for a reason they had not quite anticipated…

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, September 2005


	2. Chapter 1: The Black Butler Plays On

**Et Velle Et Perficere**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own POTO… I do own Jeremy though.

**Chapter 1: The Black Butler Plays On…**

Two young girls sat huddled together on a low wall overlooking the sea, both wearing bright purple blazers, grey jumpers, chequered summer blouses, and grey skirts. It was early Sunday afternoon and both girls, having returned from Mass, had collected their lunches and sat to eat them on the wall by the old Crimean cannons.

When Christine had gone back to her room briefly between Mass and lunch, she had walked in just in time to catch the phone ringing. It had been her mother phoning to tell her that her father had just gone off to collect another foster-child. Christine wondered vaguely how long the boy would be staying with them this time, if he would still be there when she got home, and how much of her parents attention he would take up. She didn't like feeling jealous – it wasn't expected of her – so she never told anyone, that is, anyone except Meg…

Meghan Giry was Christine's best friend and fellow full-time boarder at Garron Tower – they were two of only seven full-timers (five girls, two boys) and had such a strong friendship because of it. Meg and Christine had known each other all their lives just as their parents had known each other all their lives before them. Meg's father had died when she was a toddler, so she and her mother, who was a teacher at the school – the only female teacher who boarded, in fact – lived there solely.

Meg and Christine had been talking about the summer holidays – both girls could not wait to have a break from regular school life but, especially, Christine wanted to see her parents again. They had also been talking about Christine's new foster-sibling, Erik, as her mother had called him.

"So, do you think he'll be coming to school with us after the summer?" Meg asked.

"Well, Mum did say he was about our age and that they expected him to be with them for awhile, so, you never know… but I hope they don't have him that long."

Meg shook her head and nudged Christine's shoulder gently, "Oh, Christine, you always say that but you end up missing them when they're gone."

Christine's silence told Meg all she needed to know and she stood up, brushing the crumbs from her skirt before pulling Christine up with her. "Come on, let's go and see if we can't find Raoul – he'll cheer you up."

"Alright, fine, but I have to be back by half three – I've got my singing lesson, remember? And you, Meg Giry, have to practise your dancing before tomorrow," Christine said insistently before heading up the slope towards St. Patrick's Boarding House.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the Music Department in St. Joseph's, a solitary figure sat at the concert grand, playing quietly to himself a piece he had learnt as a young boy at the very school he, himself, now taught in. Jeremy Harper-Matthews was middle-aged and the sole male master who boarded full-time, apart from the priest, of course – but he lived separately and they weren't very close. He found it was lonely sometimes up there with so few people about. As such, he would often spend hours in the music rooms each day losing himself in the music of the great classical and baroque composers. Sometimes, in fact, if he felt like it, he would go all the way across to the other side of the school and up to the old music tower in the west wing of the castle. There was an older, grander piano up there with a more beautiful and purer sound. There was also a ghost… 

The Black Butler – named so because he wore only black – was head butler to the Marchioness who lived in the castle many years ago. Apparently he had died suddenly and, as such, had no idea he was dead. Lonely and disturbed, he retired to the only place he found solace – the music tower – and scared off any who would dare enter his domain, forcing the Music Department to be relocated to St. Joseph's – the old stables and junior boarding house. Seemingly, the Black Butler was thought to be responsible for the lilting piano music that drifted to other parts of the school from the music tower and Jeremy was not about to quash that belief – he rather enjoyed the privacy it gave him.

Needing no incentive further than that thought, he stood and left the sound-proof rooms of St. Joseph's to head towards the tower.

As he stepped out of the courtyard towards the school's main road, he noticed the two girls walking in his general direction and changed his course slightly. Catching up to them and standing between them, he linked arms with both Christine and Meg. "So, how are my two favourite girls today, then?" he asked sweetly.

"You'd have to ask _them_ that, sir," Christine replied and Meg giggled.

Spending three quarters of the whole year together, he and the girls were rather close and knew each other very well. Though he tried not to have favourites, he tended to get on better with Meg and especially Christine, who was like a daughter to him, than he did with the other boarders. He even had a nickname for Christine as he'd been so taken with the entrancingly bright colour of her eyes when he'd first met her – he had, since then, firstly because he had not known her name and secondly because he thought it suited her, called her 'Blue Eyes'.

"Always a ray of sunshine now, aren't we, Blue Eyes?" he teased.

"Are we?"

"Oh, ignore her, sir, she's just in a strop about her new brother," Meg laughed.

"I am not in a strop! And he is not my brother!" Christine said, perhaps a little too loudly.

Meg pretended to whisper to Jeremy behind her hand, "See what I mean?"

Christine scoffed and unhooked her arm from his, quickening her pace so that she was ahead of them.

"Oh, now, come on, you can't be angry with _me_, Christine… what did _I_ do?" he asked as innocently as he could manage without laughing.

"Look at the pair of you," Christine muttered, turning away from them again, "as though butter wouldn't melt…"

"Now, now, Blue Eyes, I'll behave," he said as he caught up to her and linked arms again, dragging Meg with him and lifting his full-length master's robe away from his feet so he wouldn't trip. "Look, I promise, I'll stop. Now," he said when he'd gotten his breath back, "what's this about a new brother?"

"You know that my parents are fosterers… well, they're getting another boy to look after today."

"And how do you feel about that?" he asked, more seriously now.

"What can I say? Either way I'll be going home soon and that's a vast improvement on this place. I mean, literally, we're the only ten or so people stuck up here with nothing for miles around us except acres and acres of forest, mountainside and sea for most of the year… Doesn't it bother you that you live practically all year with a priest, seven teenagers, and several dozen sheep?"

"Oh, the frank and unclouded musings of a child…" he laughed, completely happy again.

"Less of the child, sir," she smiled lightly.

"But, of course. So, apart from feeling sorry for yourself, what are you the two of you planning to do today?"

"Pile up what I did yesterday," Christine answered. Meg just laughed…

* * *

When they reached the front doors of St. Patrick's, Christine and Meg let themselves in before heading up to Raoul's room on the top floor and knocking on the door. Mr. Harper-Matthews had just excused himself and gone off in the direction of the oldest part of the building as the girls had made their way around the corner and out of sight. 

After a few moments, Raoul pulled the door open and ushered them in as he held the phone to his ear. "I know, Philip… yes, Philip… yes, I know, Philip… Look, I said I would… yes… but… I know… alright, fine… bye…"

In the meantime, Christine took a seat on his bed and Meg sat in the only chair near the desk, both of them looking highly amused.

"Well, I'm glad you find it so bloody hilarious," he said, "I'll be sure to repay your sympathies in turn."

"What was that about?" Christine asked, looking far more compassionate towards him and squeezing his shoulder gently as he sat down next to her.

"My brother, Philip, says that, if I don't do well in my exams, I can expect to be disowned and not allowed into the family business." Raoul came from a long line of successful barristers and was, therefore, expected to become one himself in due course.

"Oh, is that all," Meg said, far too cheerily to suit Raoul's mood, earning a glare from both him and Christine. "Hey, look, I don't mean to sound unsympathetic… but I am so that's how it comes across."

Still receiving glares, Meg decided that she'd far rather leave them to it and excused herself.

"I can't help thinking that, maybe, I'd prefer that, too," Raoul sighed.

Christine didn't quite know what to say so she settled for rubbing his back soothingly and letting him talk. But, instead of continuing, Raoul went off on another track completely and asked Christine something she had not been expecting. "So, did you think about what I said?"

Nervously, she withdrew her hand from his back and moved to stand by the window. "Raoul, I'm sorry, I've been concentrating so hard on my exams… I know it's a lot to ask but if you could give me time until they are over…"

As she trailed off, Raoul sighed, dejectedly, "Of course, Christine, I'm sorry if you feel I've pressurised you… I know things have been difficult lately for all of us but I really want to go out with you… I know we'd be perfect together. Say you'll think on it…"

Christine had already been thinking about it for a month now since he'd asked her the first time… she knew it was unfair to ask him to wait another couple of months until she was sure but she also didn't want to make a terrible mistake. What if they weren't perfect together and they made each other unhappy? And what would happen if they split up? – that would be one friendship totally down the drain and she wasn't sure she could bear that. She also wasn't entirely sure of how she felt about him – she knew she loved him dearly as a friend but she didn't know if there was anything more or if there ever could be. She was still so young that she didn't wish to rush into anything that would surely end badly for everyone involved. Childish though it was, she had always imagined that she would know straight away if she loved someone – that she would feel so strongly for them that being parted would physically hurt. And, though she knew it was too much of a fairytale to ever occur, subconsciously she was waiting for her Prince Charming so that she might never have to let go of her dreams.

Walking back towards him determinedly, Christine knelt at his feet and clasped his hands in hers, "I swear, no matter what my answer is, I'll have it for you by the time the bus comes to collect us a week on Friday, so long as you swear that we will stay friends in spite of anything. Can you agree to that for me, Raoul?"

"That's all I want, Christine, of course, I can agree to that."

* * *

Bored, Meg was walking towards the main building and front lawns, in search of the Dog's Grave where Lady Vane had buried her beloved dog with a headstone larger than most humans would get. It was a great spot to sit, surrounded by the trees, and spend some time on one's own. 

As she passed through the archway below the music tower, she could have sworn she heard a piano playing above, and she shivered unconsciously. The Black Butler played on and Meg wondered, vaguely, if, when _she_ died and was propping up the daisies, if she might be dancing across fields somewhere, still practising when there was nothing else left to do…

Quickening her pace and whistling to herself to drown out the piano, she skipped ahead, purposely avoiding the grass so she would not be shouted at by the caretakers, should they happen to be in one of the rooms above – one need only do that once – and stopped suddenly…

She could hear laughing before the piano continued again. Breaking into a full run, Meg passed the golf course and Smoker's Hut to the old wooded area beyond. Maybe, she should learn not to interfere where the ghost was concerned…

Remembering her initial reason for being there, Meg walked more leisurely towards the grave. Yes, it was about time somebody visited Urisk in his grave, after all, the last person who'd known him had died more than a century ago. _He must be lonely_, she mused. Perhaps, he, too, would be out there somewhere playing in the woods as though nothing had truly happened and he were still alive…

Reaching the headstone at last, Meg strained to read the inscription as it had faded and chipped away over time. With a little effort, however, she managed, and read aloud:

_"Here Urisk lies and let the truth be told__  
__This faithful dog was blind, infirm and old__  
__Deaf to all else his mistress' voice he knew__  
__Blind though he was, his step to her was true;__  
__So strong an instinct by affection fed __  
__Endured till Urisk's vital spirit fled.__  
__Stoop grandeur from thy throne ye sons of pride__  
__To whom no want is known, nor wish denied.__  
__A moment pause, and blush, if blush you can __  
__To find dogs more virtue than in man;__  
__And share, 'midst all your luxury and pelf'__  
__One thought for others out of ten for self ._

* * *

Up above, in the creaky old music tower, Jeremy stopped playing – he could have sworn he'd heard whistling just then. Perhaps the Black Butler had come to reclaim his tower at last… he laughed heartily. 

_Beware the thirteenth step…_

_What a load of codswallop_, he thought as he continued to play.

_A person could scare themselves senseless_, he reflected, _if they listened to all the rumours and all the little noises that are inevitable in a building so old. Still, best not hang around too long… just in case. _

Forcing himself not to hurry, he flipped the lid back over the piano keys and re-covered it with the old sheet before leaving, perhaps a little too quickly to be composed, through the secret door in the storeroom.

Back in the main building again, Jeremy sighed and headed for the Music Department – it was time for Christine's lesson and he was just glad he'd left when he did or he would have most definitely been late.

_You are good for something yet, old friend_, he thanked the Black Butler in his thoughts.

As he walked further away, unaware of the dust all over the backside of his black robe, he could have sworn he'd heard laughing and a piano…

_The Black Butler plays on… _

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, September 2005


	3. Chapter 2: I Can Make Anything Disappear

**Et Velle Et Perficere**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own POTO… but I do own Croft Manor. "I can make anything disappear," is of course a nod of respect to Susan Kay.

**Chapter 2: I Can Make Anything Disappear… **

Two entirely different men were sitting silently and in semi-discomfort in the front seats of the blue S-Type as the elder of the two drove them towards his home. The younger, even though he had been put through similar situations many times over the years, had utterly no idea what was expected of him, and so, he fidgeted quietly in the passenger seat. Saying he had been put through similar situations was not strictly true – he had been taken home by foster-parents before, yes, but never, _never_, by anyone quite like this…

Erik was completely used to the human scum scraped from the bottom of the proverbial barrel who usually wanted to foster him and had, as such, spent time beforehand preparing for what he had expected to be just another of them. What he had gotten instead had absolutely bewildered him and he childishly and illogically resented the man for that because he did not appreciate being thrust into unfamiliar, if better, territory.

When the young social worker at the home had told Erik that he was being fostered again, he had groaned inwardly and dejectedly started packing. They would be the thirteenth set this year, and while that number was unlucky for some, Erik believed that the whole affair was positively doomed before it had even begun. He believed he would likely be back before the week was through.

_Perhaps_, he had thought, miserably, _that would be for the best_.

Whatever disillusioned nightmares Erik had been expecting to show up in the car park, he certainly had not anticipated the person who actually had shown up. He had been looking out of the living room window when he saw the car, which was undoubtedly too fancy to belong to his new foster parents, drive in and park. He had wondered briefly if the home had been expecting an inspector.

Erik had been even more puzzled when a well-dressed and handsome man had gotten out of the car and entered the building.

_That_, he had mused, _cannot possibly be him. Can it?_

Before he had been able to think clearly, Lucy, the social worker, had led the curly-haired man into the room and introduced him as his new foster-father. Erik had been totally gobsmacked…

Now, he was stuck in a confined space with the man he'd been told to call Michael and Erik hated it – not knowing anything about him or if his appearance was all just a façade. But, instead of trying to find out any more, he had remained silent – he had learnt over the years to hate having forced conversations with the people who would most likely be kicking him out shortly.

Michael was used to the behaviour of foster-children – he'd had enough experience in the past to know that Erik's current silence was entirely normal – _expected_, even. The older ones tended always to be the more cynical and the least willing to try – but who could blame them? It might just take that little bit longer and that little bit more effort on Michael and Sarah's part but it would make the results all the sweeter. He would not be overly-confident in his ability, but, at the same time, he was hopeful that he and his wife could get through to Erik like they had all the others.

As Michael continued to drive, Erik had been thinking about what he knew the day would hold. No doubt he'd be 'introduced' to the rest of the family – though, he had already been told that Michael had a wife and a daughter, who was at boarding school – and he dreaded having to meet another procession of strangers. Then, if he were lucky, they would not expect him to remain in their company for very long before he could stay in whatever godforsaken room they banished him to.

And yet, there was something about this man's bright smile that was so genuine that Erik had to wonder how he could possibly be anything but genuine himself. He'd truly never met anyone like Michael before.

Michael cleared his throat and started to talk for the first time since they'd gotten into the car, turning his head briefly towards Erik every few seconds. "So, I hear you're somewhat of a musician – I'll show you the music room when we get home, if you like. We have a concert grand that I think you'll like. What do you say, can I tempt you?" Michael smiled again and Erik couldn't help but hope with a fierce desperation that the man before him was even half of what he appeared to be.

* * *

Elsewhere, Sarah Daaé had spent part of the afternoon starting the tea, telling her daughter the news about Erik and making up a bed in one of the upstairs bedrooms. When she'd finished and made sure that he would have everything he needed, she happily traipsed down the stairs to check how the tea was progressing. However, she was met in the entrance hall by the sound of her husband's car stopping in the driveway and so paused to let them in. 

As she opened the front doors, she got her first glimpse of the boy they would be looking after from now on. He was very tall, she noticed, as he got out, and rather thin. But, more importantly, she noticed the bright white mask he wore over the right side of his face. _What on Earth…?_ she wondered. But, having more sense than curiosity, she didn't and wouldn't mention it.

Michael got Erik's bags out of the boot and led him into the house. "This is Sarah, my wife," he said as he placed the bags by the side of the stairs and closed the doors.

"It's lovely to meet you, Erik," Sarah said. Erik stared at the outstretched hand of the smiling dark-haired lady for several long moments before tentatively and briefly touching his fingertips to hers.

Michael, knowing how tense and uncomfortable Erik was, offered to show him up to his room before picking his bags up again and moving up the stairs.

* * *

A short time later, in the room Erik had been provided with, he sat perched on the large four-poster bed, thinking. He'd never been anywhere like this before – he'd never even dreamt he could be this fortunate. 

Michael had left him alone for a while to get used to his surroundings but he was not terribly sure he could ever get used to this. He was very aware of the fact that he might be told to leave soon and he did not want to get so attached to the place that he would find it difficult. However, it was going to be harder here, at Croft Manor, than it was anywhere else he'd stayed – they had all been rat-infested dumps – but this was… sublime.

Michael had promised to show Erik around the whole house after tea and around the rest of the grounds whenever he got the chance. However, Erik was more looking forward to being shown the music room later – ever since Michael had told him about the piano he had been itching to get in their and play it. Perhaps, before the day was through, he'd get a chance.

He was startled from his thoughts by a gentle knocking at the door and looked up to see Michael push it open. "I know I said _after _tea, but Sarah's been waylaid with it, so perhaps you'd like the tour now."

Erik was amazed at all the wonderful rooms that he saw. They had started on the ground floor with rooms like the conservatory and drawing room, and worked their way upwards stopping for a brief time in the library/music room for Erik to inspect the piano he would acquaint himself with properly later.

He had expected to be able to look at little else in the room when it came to the piano; he so often became engrossed in his music that he thought of doing little more. However, there was something else that Erik could not truly draw his attention away from…

He stared intently at the divinely beautiful girl in the photograph – her perfect face, the dark curls that fell almost to her waist, the way her eyes twinkled as those perfect lips were drawn into a beautiful smile for the camera – he simply could not tear his eyes away from her. She was, at least in appearance, totally without fault.

"That's Christine," Michael said, having noticed the look on Erik's face, though not being quite able to interpret it, "she's still at boarding school, at the minute, but she'll be back in a couple of weeks."

Erik wasn't sure he was completely unhappy about that anymore, as he had been before he'd seen her. At least, if she were home he could see her more closely and, most probably, she would not live up to his expectations. No doubt, she would be totally unworthy of his attentions and devoid of the compassion he saw in her father – then he knew he would forget her and concentrate on the music he would surely be able to produce in this house.

"Come," Michael called to him from the door, "tea should be ready now."

As Erik followed the older man out of the door, he took one last look back at the girl in the picture…

She was his first real understanding that angels truly existed…

* * *

After eating, Michael excused Erik so that he could go back to the music room. Michael had known that he would be eager but he had not expected just how quickly the boy vanished up the stairs. Laughing amiably, Michael was, perhaps, unaware of the true reason Erik was in such a rush to get there… 

Erik lifted the frame into his hands and held the picture close to his face. He had been unable to think of anything else during dinner and he did not appreciate being so distracted. She was truly remarkable, this girl he had never met, and he was entirely unaccustomed to the effect her mere photo had had on him. He had no idea what it was about her that made him feel so… so… he didn't even know what it was he felt, seeing as he'd never experienced such feelings before. And yet, he didn't know her at all, had never met her and knew very little actually worthwhile about her.

_Perhaps, I can rectify that_, he thought.

He made up his mind to look for her room after he'd played for a while – surely Michael and Sarah would be suspicious if they did not hear the piano playing first – and that might give him an idea of what she was like.

Collapsing the top on the piano, he set the frame on it to look upon her while he played. She would be his inspiration this night, and, if he were lucky, something worthwhile would come of it.

* * *

"When they said he was good, they certainly did not do him justice," Michael commented as he sat in the downstairs living room on the sofa, next to his wife. 

Sarah nodded gently as she took another sip of the wine, "Lord, Michael, I've heard worse professionals." The rhythmic piano music continued as Michael and Sarah listened, quietly thinking of how things had turned out this evening.

"I know… I just don't understand how he could have developed such talent in a care home… I mean, they don't even have an upright or a keyboard. And, from what I've heard of his previous carers, neither did they."

Michael thought of Christine and how she would have loved to be with them right now listening to the most beautifully played piano they'd ever heard. He would keep it a surprise and hopefully it wouldn't be too difficult to get Erik to play for her when she got home – after all, he did seem quite taken with her photo. Sarah also thought of Christine, but she was more concerned with how she and Erik would get along. It had been a long time since Christine had been home while they had someone to look after and she wasn't sure how they would take to each other. It would be an absolute disaster if they fought – it would completely ruin Christine's holidays and she would not appreciate it when she was sent back in September. Sarah often worried about things such as these but she tried not to let them bother her too much and just hoped that Erik and Christine might find something in common – music, perhaps, if nothing else…

Lulled by the music and the wine, both Michael and Sarah began to fall asleep where they were, resting against each other. Michael's last semi-conscious thought before giving in to his exhaustion was a more than slightly disappointed comment about the music stopping…

* * *

True to form, Erik crept, unnoticed, back up the stairs after checking to see where Michael and Sarah were – he had found them asleep in each other's embrace in the living room. He made his way swiftly passed the first floor landing and up to the second floor where the bedrooms were. He had not been shown earlier which one was Christine's room – Michael had only told him where his own room was and, of course, theirs in case Erik should need them – but he was not averse to trying every single one until he found it. 

Having been entirely unwilling and unable to part with the photograph when he had left the music room shortly before, he had removed it from its frame and hidden it somewhere only _he_ could admire it. He knew the empty frame would be noticed sooner or later but he didn't much care if it meant he could keep the picture all to himself – years of living in a care home with a dozen other children taught one quite efficiently how to be totally selfish and how to get things for oneself. And, after all, he liked beautiful things. He was just taking it for his collection, he told himself.

The first door he tried was what seemed to be a spare room as there were no defining objects in it, so was the second, however, the third – the room directly opposite his – seemed to belong to her. It was much in keeping with the rest of the house but it had belongings in it that he decided must belong to a girl.

Closing the door over behind him, he stepped into the centre of the room to have a look around. On the bedside table was a picture of Michael and Sarah, another of Christine herself with a blond young man and a blonde young woman, and, beside them, a silver hairbrush. The door to her wardrobe was open but he did not wish to nose through her clothes and, now that he was actually in her room, he wondered if he could really just snoop around – it suddenly seemed like invading her privacy – not that it wasn't before but, somehow, it mattered now.

Resolving to come back later if he felt inclined to do so, Erik moved back out her door, closing it behind him, and walked back to check on his foster parents again. He passed the stairs just in time to see Michael enter the music room and he cringed – unlike with his previous foster parents, Erik had no wish to upset Michael or Sarah, but it could not be avoided. He made a hasty retreat back to his room and sat on the bed, waiting for the inevitable confrontation. He would not have to wait long…

* * *

"Erik," Michael said calmly as he entered the young man's bedroom, "do you have any idea where Christine's photograph has gotten to?" 

"Should I have?"

"I've asked Sarah and she said she did not remove it and I know _I_ didn't touch it. That, I'm afraid, only leaves you… Did you take it, Erik?" he asked as he sat on the bed next to him.

Erik remained silent awhile as he contemplated what answer to give Michael – he did not wish to make the situation worse – had it been anyone else they would probably have struck him by now.

"Was it you, Erik?"

"No…" Erik replied, more out of instinct than any conscious thought.

"Come now, Erik… are you telling me that it is more likely that some vagabond had the good grace to get in _without_ breaking a window and then just _passed by_ all of the CD players, antiques, artwork and other valuables, instead daring to live on the effects of a photograph of my daughter? Look, Erik, you can be honest with me, you know. I'm not angry with you; I just want you to tell me the truth. Did you take it?"

"Yes…" he sighed quietly, defeated. "_I can make anything disappear… if I want to_."

"Well…" Michael said, at a loss. "I'm not exactly sure _why_ you took it, but you could have asked, you know – it's easily replaced… Anyway, it's late now and you should get some rest. Tomorrow's Monday so I'll be away for part of the day – Sarah will still be here if you need her and, of course, you may go anywhere in the grounds. I would ask you to behave but I am not sure it would be anything other than a waste of breath," Michael said, smiling gently at the boy as he stood to leave the room.

"I'll be down the hall if you need anything…" And, with that, he left Erik alone in the room to contemplate what, exactly, had just transpired.

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, September 2005


	4. Chapter 3: The Angel Returneth

**Et Velle Et Perficere**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own POTO… but I do own Croft Manor and Jeremy Harper-Matthews. Hmm, Edward Scissorhands… hadn't thought of that – how very shrewd of you, my dear.

**Chapter 3: The Angel Returneth…**

Almost two weeks had passed and Erik rejoiced – not once in that time had he been struck or punished, and goodness knows, in the past, transgressions less serious than stealing Christine's photo had gotten him whipped. He could not believe that, for once, he was in the presence of genuine, kind people and he rejoiced again that he was being allowed to stay with them in their haven of music and privacy. Not once did Michael or Sarah force there presence upon him or invade his privacy in any way – they were what his parents _should_ have been.

Michael had explained to him that, while he would not be expected to finish the last few days of term, he would be going to school after the summer holidays. Michael had even given him a choice of where he could go – the local school or the one Christine went to – not surprisingly, Erik had chosen the latter. Partly because he wanted to be near the most beautiful creature he had ever seen and partly due to the place she actually went to school – Erik was not thick, he knew an opportunity such as this would never present itself to him again. What was the probability that he'd ever get the chance to go to a private, fee-paying school in a nineteenth century castle, again?

Over the past two weeks, Erik had come to quite like it at Croft Manor – it was the nearest to happiness he had ever felt and he had only been there a fortnight. While he was still reserved when it came to company, he had developed a great respect for his new foster parents, though, never in a thousand years would he admit it to anyone. And they, in turn, had gotten used to and perhaps, he hoped, _liked_ having him around. He tried not to make things difficult for them like he had the less savoury members of society he'd come across but he was still uncomfortable in participating in all aspects of 'family life' and mostly kept to himself – a subject neither Sarah nor Michael forced.

It was Friday morning and Erik had been told by Sarah that Christine would be coming home that evening. At turns, he was both anxious and excited – he wanted, very much, to see, in person, the girl he had grown so fond of, even in her absence. After the day Erik had taken and hidden her photo, Michael had not mentioned it again nor had he told Sarah – he had, however, had it replaced and had told Erik as much about Christine as he thought was appropriate. While Erik found himself thinking about her more often because of it, Michael was slightly worried about the extent that this boy had become fixated on his daughter in such a short time though he had never met her. He waited, impatiently, for her to return in the hope that an actual meeting might stop Erik's infatuation progressing – after all, people never lived up to one's expectations of them – but he was also nervous that it might just make it worse.

Not that Erik showed any dangerous traits as far as Michael could tell, and he believed categorically that Erik would never harm Christine, but he could not help feeling protective towards his child. Granted, Erik's mask had been somewhat of a mystery to Michael; he had no idea why a seventeen-year-old would want to go around wearing it all day and all night but he feared Erik would retreat further into his shell if he were to ask about it.

It wasn't the mask that truly bothered Michael anyway – he'd seen enough strange behaviour by foster-children that it did not faze him – it was just small things that Erik would do – like when he stole her picture – no heinous crime in itself but if you added it to the times he had asked about her or drawn her from one of the portraits in the hall or the song Michael had found in the music room that was named after her. All of them, little, insignificant things on their own but a touch more worrying when added together.

There was little he could do about it now, anyway – he would watch them closely when they were together and, if things got out of hand in whatever way, he could always send Erik back to the home. It was something he had never had to do before but he would do it for the sake of his daughter.

"Michael," a melodic voice said, behind him, snapping him out of his thoughts, "what will change when Christine comes home?"

"Hmm?" Michael asked, confused. He shifted slightly in the deckchair as Erik approached his side and sat to his left primarily under the shade of the parasol.

Apart from wishing to see the angel in real life, Erik had been apprehensive that, with her return, Michael and Sarah would no longer want him – why would they want a demon when they could have an angel of the highest order, like her.

"Well, if you don't want her to know of my presence, I'm used to remaining unseen…"

With a sudden and abject clarity, Michael realised that he had been worrying for no reason, at all. "Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed, "there's absolutely no way we'd let you do that. Sarah and I are fostering you now and neither of us is ashamed of that fact. Christine will not want you to hide either… she is the most caring and compassionate person you'll ever meet… it would hurt her to know that someone wanted to spare her the _imposition_ of having to see them."

"I've never known anyone to be like that…"

* * *

Elsewhere, up the side of a mountain by the coast, seven teenagers and three of their teachers stood in the car park of the school, deciding how everyone was going to get home as the bus which was supposed to collect them had broken down miles away – the teachers, of course, still had their cars. 

Meghan and Mrs. Giry would be staying at Meg's uncle's house for the whole of the holidays and, fortunately, that was close enough for Mrs. Giry to drop off Jessica, Jules and Imogen to their respective homes. Likewise, Fr. Walters was able to take Raoul and James home. And Jeremy would take Christine home.

"Right everyone, you'd better all phone your parents and let them know about the change in plans. Once you've done that, collect your bags, lock up and we'll all meet back here in half an hour when everything's sorted. Alright? Go on then," said Jeremy as he began to walk towards the boarding houses to make sure everyone did as he asked.

"Christine, wait a second," Raoul called, hooking her arm through his.

Jeremy turned briefly to look at Christine as he called gently, "Come on, Blue Eyes, you're with me and I'm not a patient man…"

Waiting for him to turn away again, Raoul asked, "Have you decided then? You said you'd have an answer by now."

"I know, Raoul, and I'm sorry I left it this late but it's just that we won't see each other for the next month… and I know you want to keep in touch but you know how things come up… I'm sorry but I can't go out with you just now – if you still want anything to do with me in September, you can ask me again but I am not asking you to wait… you've done enough of that already."

Raoul sighed heavily and unhooked their arms, "Well, I suppose I'll see you next year then. Have a good holiday," he said coldly. And he walked away off ahead of her into the boys' halls.

"Oh, Raoul, I never meant to hurt you… I _hate_ hurting people," she whispered.

* * *

Sitting in a car with Mr. Harper-Matthews for four hours had been better than Christine had expected it to be. She'd never spent such a long time with him in a confined space but it had led to her discovery that he was quite the enthusiast when it came to conversation. The man could talk for England! But it distracted her, at least, from what had happened with Raoul – she didn't want to think about how she'd upset him even though she knew it had been unavoidable. 

She was drawn out of her daydreaming when she realised that her travel companion was waving at her with his left hand to get her attention. "Have you heard a word I've said?"

"Yes, I heard every single word you said. Did I take any of them in? – No. Can I repeat them back to you? – No. But my hearing is absolutely bloody exemplary, thank you."

"Are you upset about the foster-child?" Jeremy asked after a sufficient pause.

Christine looked up at him, confusedly, "Oh, _that_… no. I just… I'm sorry, sir, I've just had a lot on my mind, recently. I don't mean to take it out on you, though."

"That's quite alright, really. But, Christine, if something is bothering you, you know you can tell me, don't you?" At her nod, he continued rather more lightly, "And how many times do I have to tell you, out of term times I am just Jeremy?"

"At least once more, sir," she said, smiling.

He laughed, happily, "You always say that but I don't see why – all the boys call me 'Jeremy' during the holidays – why can't you? 'Mr. Harper-Matthews' sounds so stuffy…"

"For a start, the boys also call a toilet, 'a bog' – but I'm not about to start calling it that too. Secondly, they don't call you 'Jeremy' – they call you 'Jez' like they've known you forever and you aren't pushing fifty to their seventeen. And while you think your name is stuffy, I like it – at least people can _pronounce_ it – look what I've got to contend with…"

"I'm hurt," he said, pretending to pout. "_Pushing fifty! _I'm only forty-two. You may not think that's much of a difference but wait till you're my age – all the years count."

"Oh, you poor dear, whatever can we do…"

"Hmph…"

* * *

Erik looked out of the sitting room when he heard a car drive through the gates to Croft Manor and park in the driveway. Out of the right-hand side door, stepped a tall, light-haired man wearing a suit. Normally, Erik would have had the presence of mind to wonder who, exactly, the man was, but all of his current thought processes were caught up with the girl who had gotten out of the left door. He watched, utterly transfixed, as the young brunette smiled up at her long-missed home while her companion collected her bags from the boot. 

Downstairs, Michael Daaé threw open the front door, ran forward and embraced his daughter ecstatically, "Oh, Christine, I have missed you so…" He drew back slightly to look at her, "You look delightful, my dear." She had just spent the last four hours cramped up in a car and she was just in an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt – she certainly did not _feel_ delightful – but it didn't matter to him, he was just pleased that he had her home, at last.

Noticing for the first time, the man standing off to one side awkwardly and clutching Christine's bags, Michael moved to him and offered his hand to shake as Christine and her mother hugged and went inside. "I'm Michael, Christine's father. It was so kind of you to bring her home."

"Oh, really, it was nothing. It was in my direction, anyway. I'm Jeremy Harper-Matthews – I teach Music and English at St. MacNissi's," he said as Michael took the bags from him.

"Ah, I see. How far are you from home?"

Jeremy thought for a moment, lifting his eyes to the sky, and sighed, "About another couple of hours or so."

"You're joking," Michael said, surprised, "you've already been driving for hours. Why don't you come in for a while and have something to eat."

"Really, I don't wish to impose, I'll be fine."

"You aren't imposing, you're very welcome, now come in and we'll get you some tea." Leaving no room for argument, Michael turned back to the house and headed inside as Jeremy followed.

* * *

Erik sat at the bottom of the stairs listening intently as his foster-parents, their daughter and a man he realised must be Christine's teacher, sat in the downstairs living room talking. He hadn't yet managed to hear her as clearly as he could hear the men and so he waited impatiently for the voice that would either break or complete his dream. He had not taken dinner with them as he had been asked to do by Michael, who had had no intention of forcing him – instead, he had been allowed to eat it in his bedroom before deciding to eavesdrop on the others' conversation. 

"She's quite the handful, Blue Eyes, but I wouldn't be without her in my class – she's so enthusiastic about her subjects – well, I can only speak for Music and English but I have not heard a word of complaint from any of her other teachers," Jeremy said to Michael as they sat on the sofa and drank their cups of tea. The two of them had seemed to have hit it off during dinner when Jeremy had been happy to hear from Christine that her father worked in the theatre. They had then gone on to discuss all the trappings of a theatrical life, complete with obscure terms and in-jokes that neither Sarah nor Christine tried to hear or understand. That was not to say that they did not love theatre themselves, but they had had more pressing matters to attend to…

Sarah and Christine were now off to one side discussing mainly what she had said to Raoul but also a few other things they had to catch up on. Sarah had had Christine when she was quite young and, perhaps because of it, the two of them were very close and talked about many things Christine would usually talk to Meg about. She was glad of the distraction Mr. Harper-Matthews posed to her father so that she had the freedom to speak unreservedly to her mother.

They had all been talking so absorbedly, in fact, that none of them had noticed just how late it had gotten – none, that is, except the masked man who had been sitting on the stairs long enough that he had begun to wonder if he could remember what it was like to be able to feel his legs.

The grandfather clock in the hallway struck nine and successfully drew everyone out of their respective conversations and reveries. "Oh, I am so sorry, I had no idea what time it was," Michael explained to Jeremy as he stood from the sofa.

"Neither did I, it's fine, really. I should be going, though, I have quite a bit of driving left to do. Thank you very much for the hospitality and the company. Goodbye, Blue Eyes, I'll see you in September."

"No, no, I won't hear of it; you can't possibly mean to go home now – you wouldn't get there until near midnight and it's already dark. You are welcome to stay here tonight; we have plenty of room," Michael said as he moved to stand before Jeremy.

"No, really, I would be intruding. Besides, I'm expected and I really wasn't fishing for an inv–"

"Oh, I know _that_," Michael cut him off.

"_And_ he lives alone," Christine interjected.

"Why, thank you for that, Blue Eyes…"

"You're welcome, sir, now, come on, I'll show you to your room."

"Smashing," Michael said as he helped Sarah clear away the teacups.

* * *

Too late, Erik leapt to his feet as the living room door opened, not giving him enough time to get away – he was directly in the line of sight of whomever had opened the door. It was either the worst luck in the world or the only break fate had ever given him to be stood facing the angel in all her glory as she stopped and stared at him, surprised. He was in complete awe of her and felt his legs weakening not, he suspected, due to the pins and needles but perhaps more to do with _her_. 

Unknown to Erik, Christine was just as much in awe of _him_ – he was the most striking man she had ever seen, with his tall stature, the proud way he held himself and his brilliant-white mask. His hair was straight and dark brown, brushed, against fashion but much to her liking, straight back to where the ends curled up softly at the back of his collar. His cheekbones were high, his lips full and he was immaculately dressed – Christine could not seem to take her eyes off of him.

Meanwhile, during her appraisal of him, he was doing the very same to her. She was a creature of intense beauty – alabaster skin, contrasting dark curls falling to her waist, piercing blue eyes and light pink lips which reminded him amusingly of an archer's bow. She was dressed simply in faded jeans and a long-sleeved black t-shirt with the name of a West End show across the front, and her little delicate bare feet gave Erik the strangest urge to coddle her.

By now, Michael, Sarah and Jeremy had gathered at the living room door behind Christine as she stood there looking at Erik. All of the adults were rather confused at the utter silence between the two and decided to try to get them to talk.

"Christine, this is Erik," Sarah said, "he'll be going to school with you next year. You'll both be in the same year."

"Erik, this is Christine, she'll take you under her wing and show you around, I'm sure, when the time comes."

_Her wing, indeed_, Erik thought, _how appropriate_.

_The angel returneth…_

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, October 2005


	5. Chapter 4: Someone Who Understands

**Et Velle Et Perficere**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own POTO… but I do own Croft Manor and Jeremy Harper-Matthews.

**Chapter 4: Someone Who Understands…**

Michael, Sarah and Jeremy looked between Erik and Christine, fascinated at their total lack of response. Jeremy was the first to break the silence as he placed his hands on Christine's shoulders and gently moved her out of the living room doorway, saying, "I'll just get my bag from the car. If you're conscious by then, Blue Eyes, you can show me up, hmm?"

His words knocked her out of her apparent trance and she drew her eyes up to his, finally aware that they had everyone's attention. "Yes, of course," she said, moving to stand by the doors so that she could lock them when he returned, completely unaware of the effect her voice had had on Erik.

Michael, however, seemed much more alert to the change in him and, walking over to him, placed a hand on his shoulder, applying a gentle pressure to coax him up the stairs. "Come on, Erik, why don't you show me that sonata you were working on earlier?" The two of them then headed slowly up the stairs and into the music room, closing the door behind them.

As soon as he heard the door click shut, Erik collapsed, deflated, into the rocking chair by the window. He had hoped that her voice would be passable, that, with a little training, it would be beautiful, even – what he had not expected, however, was the musical quality already there, the perfection of the lilt and tone and, most especially, the effect it had had on him.

Michael looked on as Erik wretchedly went over things in his head, neither of them quite sure what was upsetting him. "Are you alright, Erik?"

"Why shouldn't I be?" Erik snapped.

"It wasn't a threat…"

For a time, neither man said a word until Michael decided that there was no way he would be able to get through to Erik while he was like this – he decided, instead, to see how everyone else was doing, and so, excused himself.

* * *

Elsewhere in the house, after Christine had shown Mr. Harper-Matthews to his room, she had gone to her own to get changed into her pyjamas. It was wonderful for her, being back home again and able to sleep in her own bed, with her parents just a few rooms away. She wouldn't swap it for anything in the world. 

Erik, however, had confused her immensely – what exactly had happened between them downstairs? Not wanting to think about it any more and being completely exhausted she slipped into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She knew she would have to have some sort of interaction with him at some point but she was just too tired at the moment.

For his own part, Erik was also confused. Nobody had ever had this effect on him before and he had never thought anybody would – certainly not a complete stranger he had not said a single word to and who, herself, had not said more than three words in his presence. She provoked feelings he had not felt before and was perhaps a little wary of feeling, at all.

Having decided he had spent enough time on his own just thinking, he resolved to try to get some sleep, and so, left the music room to go upstairs to his bedroom. Or, he would have, rather, had he not walked straight into Christine as she had intended to enter the music room, and ended up sprawled in a dazed heap on the floor on top of her.

He pulled back immediately and lifted himself off of her to stand and for a moment he saw her – truly _saw_ her – lying ungracefully in front of him in her pyjamas and a brilliant white robe, her hair ruffled about her and her expression that of shock – she was even more beautiful now, if that were possible. Truly breathtaking…

"I am so sorry, have I hurt you? Tell me, Angel, are you well?" he asked, perhaps too concernedly for a complete stranger, holding a hand out to help her up.

Momentarily stunned at the beauty of his voice, she shook her head gently sending her curls tumbling about her shoulders and drawing a quiet sigh from Erik. "_Angel?_" she asked.

"Excuse me?"

"You called me 'Angel,'" she said as she accepted his help up.

"Quite. Well, I'd better be heading up to bed – it's late – and I suggest you do the same, Miss Daaé."

"I tried but I couldn't sleep, that's why I came downstairs. I spend time in the music room when that happens – it's something I couldn't do if I were at school so I make the most of it while I'm here."

"Well, I bid you goodnight, then," Erik said as he again turned to the stairs to leave.

"Oh, and I preferred it when you called me 'Angel,'" were her last words before disappearing into the music room, the door shutting soundly behind her. Erik was dumbfounded – one Freudian slip and she had _preferred_ it? It was beyond reason… He hastily made his way up to his bedroom to avoid any further such exchanges.

It wouldn't be until a couple of hours later, however, that he would be able to sleep, having heard her finally return to her room.

* * *

Next morning, four bleary-eyed people sat at the table in the breakfast room on the ground floor. All of them were in their respective housecoats, none of them having wanted to dress properly before eating and they entertained light and undemanding conversation. 

Michael was sitting at the head of the table with Sarah to his left and Christine to her left. Jeremy was sitting opposite Christine – he had been asked to stay for breakfast with them and his stomach had wholeheartedly agreed on his behalf. Already he felt quite comfortable around his Blue Eyes' family, comfortable enough to sit in his bathrobe with them; though, perhaps, that was due to the amount of non-public hours he spent with his charges. It was hard to be taken seriously when telling off a disruptive teenager in one's fluffy slippers and pyjamas, but it was an art he had learned to master over the years. And while he was used to dining with a room fool of teenagers every morning, he felt this was a quiet reprieve to be enjoyed. That was not to say he didn't love his job, but he was currently with a group of people he had much more in common with and who did not speak all at once – it was heaven.

Erik was not present…

"Where is he?" Christine asked, "Surely he must be hungry…"

"Erik does not often eat with us, Christine," Michael said, "he'll come down when he's ready."

Christine set her knife and fork down on her plate and pushed her chair back. "I'll be back in a minute."

* * *

Erik was playing the piano in the music room when Christine found him. He was wrapped up in a new score she had unwittingly inspired and was agitated at being disturbed. 

"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" he snapped.

"One does not often have to knock to get into one's own room – my father gave me this room when I was a child. But, I _did_ knock; _you_ didn't hear me."

She moved over to the piano and stood beside him, smiling genuinely. "So, not a morning person, then? Look, I just came up to see if you wanted to have breakfast with us…"

"I'm afraid, Miss Daaé, that I'll have to decline."

"But I don't know anything about you… come down and have breakfast with us; we can get to know each other… please… for me…"

That got Erik's attention – the very idea that _she_ would want to get to know _him_. "I'm sorry, I can't…"

Christine looked around, briefly, "What's stopping you?"

He contemplated that very thought, himself, and could not come up with a valid answer.

"Alright then, I'll see you downstairs. Don't be long; your breakfast will get cold." She left without another word and headed to the kitchen to get him a plate.

When she entered the breakfast room again, Michael and Jeremy stood until she placed the plate to her left and sat down. "So?" Michael asked.

"He's coming down," she said. Lifting her glass to take a sip, she watched her father quirk his eyebrow at her. "He'll be down. Trust me…"

And, sure enough, five minutes later, Erik silently made his way down the stairs and into the breakfast room to join the four of them. He happily noticed that the extra plate had been placed next to Christine and away from all the others. Sitting down, entirely aware that everyone was looking at him, he kept his eyes on his food and began to eat.

"Good morning, Erik," Michael began, "it's nice to have you join us for a change."

"Yes, good morning, Erik," Sarah agreed and Christine decided she had better introduce her teacher.

"Erik, this is Mr. Harper-Matthews, my form master. He also teaches me Music and he'll teach you too, next year. You'll like him, I'm sure, and, apparently," she said, winking at Jeremy, "you can call him 'Jez' until term starts."

"Ignore Blue Eyes," he said, stretching his hand across the table to Erik, "I'm Jeremy,"

Erik looked at his hand and only briefly touched his fingertips. He also wondered at the nickname he had given Christine. He agreed, she did have beautiful eyes…

"Angel," he said, calmly, as though it were nothing unusual, "would you pass me the butter, please?"

Needless to say, Michael was amazed.

* * *

The rest of breakfast had been as it had before Erik had joined them – full of little more than light conversation, the task of eating and some silent contemplation. For his part, Michael wondered at the ease with which Christine had managed to get Erik to come down – he usually got an outright 'no' from him – and the way they interacted as though they dined together _every_ morning. He thought about the nickname Erik had given his daughter and the nonchalance with which it had been accepted by her. He also thought about the way Erik treated her – not that he was ever impolite or improper to him or Sarah – but he was utterly _attentive_ to Christine… he would listen to every word she said as though it were her last, he constantly made sure she did not seem upset and he provided her with all he thought she would need – even if it were only the orange juice. Christine, herself, seemed not to notice the special attention she was receiving… 

After everyone had finished, they all excused themselves to get dressed – all except Christine and Erik…

"How long have you been playing for?" Christine asked.

"All my life… True music is not something one can choose…"

"My parents tell me that the care home you were in did not have a piano to speak of, so how did you keep it up?" As she waited for his answer, she turned herself more fully towards him, sitting on the chair sideways, her arm over the back.

"I have a violin. Besides, only the utterly untalented can _forget_ how to play." He wouldn't tell her about the church that had been nearby and the times he had sneaked off to play the old organ. Or the fact that people thought there was a ghost there who played at night and disappeared only so long as Erik was being fostered by someone.

"Perhaps you'll play for me sometime…"

"Of course, Angel."

Little did she know he already did…

* * *

"Thank you so much for having me," Jeremy said as he put his bags in the boot of his car, "I'll never forget it." 

They were all gathered out on the driveway as they said their goodbyes and he prepared to leave. He shook Erik and Michael's hands and gave Sarah and Christine a light kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you in September, Blue Eyes. Enjoy your holiday for me."

"I'll be in touch about that show," Michael called as Jeremy got in his car and waved. They had been discussing a musical to be held at the school next year, run by the seniors and, much to Jeremy's delight, Michael had offered to help out.

As they saw Jeremy's car disappear through the gates at the end of the driveway, they all headed inside. Michael and Sarah went into the living room leaving Christine and Erik alone to wonder what to do.

"I have a small spinet in the attic that needs to be restored…" she suggested.

"Let's go," Erik said before following her up the stairs.

* * *

"You're joking," Christine laughed, "he thought _Rigoletto_ was a female stripper." 

She and Erik had been discussing his many previous foster parents – especially a man whose entire knowledge of opera had stretched to the fact that it existed and other people went to see it occasionally.

"Oh, finally," he sighed, stroking her hair behind her ear softly, "someone who understands." Realising what he was doing, he withdrew it suddenly.

"So, what do you think of Old Dusty, here?" Christine asked, referring to the spinet, as she tried to ease the tension.

Erik thought for a moment and sighed. "She's certainly in need of repair but I think, with a little extra effort, I'll be able to fix her, if you'll let me… Now, tell me, how did you come by her?"

"She was left to me. Unfortunately, she had already acquired the basis for that name when I received her. But you really think you can fix her?"

"I would not lie to you, Angel."

Christine smiled serenely while Erik hoped fervently he would never do anything to break that promise or deprive the world of that smile.

"Come, I expect your parents will be wondering where we've gotten to. Perhaps tomorrow you can help me bring her down to my room so I can have a proper look at her."

* * *

That night, in bed, Erik contemplated the girl he had come to… what? Like? – No, it was stronger than that. Care for? – No, it was more than that too. Well, whatever he had come to feel for her, he knew it was extraordinary. She had more than lived up to his many expectations – she was not only the most beautiful creature he had ever seen but she was also the kindest – truly her father's daughter. He wanted to know everything about her and that scared him – he felt overly protective over a girl he'd only that day had a proper conversation with. But she was worth everything he had to offer her and more – he knew that instinctively. 

No doubt, one day, if he told her of his feelings for her, she would break his already shattered heart and what was left of him would die inside. But he would not think of that now – he would think only of making her happy. And tomorrow he would hopefully start fixing her spinet and maybe they could spend some time in the music room later playing the piano.

Yes, tomorrow would be a good day…

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, October 2005

It's when people say stupid things like that that you just _know_ that tomorrow isn't going to be a good day… and how is it that Erik can be morbid even when he's being happy?


	6. Chapter 5: Such a Delicate Beauty

**Et Velle Et Perficere**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own POTO… but I do own Croft Manor, Jeremy Harper-Matthews and Old Dusty.

Please read and review…

**Chapter 5: Such a Delicate Beauty…**

"So, what is it like at your school?" Erik asked, early the next morning, as he and Christine cleared an area in the attic to get the spinet towards the rear stairs and into his room.

"It's not much like other schools, I suppose, but you'll get used to it. It's difficult being away for so long but I'm sure you know what _that's_ like." She paused for a moment to help him lift an old table to one side and proceeded to choke on a cloud of dust. "You already know me and you've met Jeremy so you won't be completely alone at the start of the year; you wouldn't believe how glad I was to already know Meg and Raoul before I started."

Erik jerked his head up at that. "Who is _Raoul_?" He had a feeling he would not like her answer or the boy, himself.

"Raoul, he's a friend, I suppose…" Christine said, remembering their last conversation.

"You suppose?"

"Well, he has been asking me to go out with him for the last few months and I did promise him an answer by the end of term but… well, I sort of turned him down. I suppose I still haven't given him a proper answer… we did not exactly part on good terms," she sighed.

"I expect you'll want to rekindle your _friendship_ then when you get back," Erik said curtly with his back turned towards her.

"I would hardly think our friendship would need that much repair; he just needs to let his pride heal. You men and your blasted arrogance…" she laughed.

"Ah, my dear, you know too little of me to tar me with the same brush as that _boy_. Anyway, I think that we have enough room now, let's see if we can't get her through. I'll just go and get Michael."

When they eventually got Old Dusty down the back stairs and into the hallway on the second floor, they were all covered in a thick and clinging layer of dust. Christine was the first to sneeze and she looked up sharply when she heard Erik laughing. "What exactly is so funny?"

He moved forward and stroked her hair behind her ear and when he began to speak, his voice was soft. "You are covered in dust, Angel, and the way you blinked up at me with your big wide eyes like a child… you were _adorable_."

If anyone had been watching Erik at that moment, they would have seen the tender look he was giving her and the gentleness with which he caressed her hair. If they had been watching, they would have seen his hesitation at removing his hand. They would have seen his reluctance to part with her.

Michael had been watching and he had seen _everything_…

* * *

Later that day, while Christine and her parents were away at Mass, Erik looked over and cleaned off the old spinet in his room. He soon realised that, though it was fixable, it would take longer than he had anticipated. He had wanted to surprise Christine with it when she got back but he now knew it might be another two or so Sundays before he would be able to do that. And she would likely ask about it before then. 

As he moved around the back of the spinet, he heard the doorbell ring and paused to think. Should he answer it? He wasn't sure. It had never rung in the time he had been there and he didn't know what he should do. If it were important, Michael would be pleased he had answered it, wouldn't he? And if it weren't, then he had not lost anything by going to the door, had he?

Deciding that he might as well, he headed down the stairs and towards the front doors. Taking an extra second to compose himself, he pulled open the doors and was confronted with a blond-haired boy roughly his age. Erik vaguely recognised him as the boy from one of Christine's photos and he wondered if this was that Raoul she had spoken of. Now wishing he had not, in fact, opened the door, he folded his arms across his chest and waited for the _boy_ to start speaking.

Raoul was momentarily stunned by the imposing figure that had opened the door, and took a moment to find his words. He had been expecting either Christine or her parents, all of whom he had known for years and would welcome him, and so he had not really thought out what to stay if it wasn't one of them that answered.

"Are you always this slow, _boy_, or are you making a special effort today?" Erik sneered.

Recovering himself, Raoul said, "Actually, I was here to see Miss Daaé. Is she in?"

"No," Erik said shortly, leaning up against the doorframe.

"Well, do you have any idea when she'll be back?"

"No."

"Do you know where she is?" Raoul asked, exasperated.

"She has gone to Mass with her parents, when they get back they will want to sit down to lunch. You have not come at the best time."

"Look, I've known the Daaés all my life and I've spent four hours in a car to get here to see Christine – they will not mind me joining them for lunch or, in fact, if I came in and waited for them to return," Raoul said, now highly agitated by the indifference of the masked figure standing, uninvitingly, in the doorway. "Who the hell are you, anyway?"

"If you want to come in, you are certainly not going about it the right way."

"I've never heard any of them mention you," Raoul continued, ignoring him.

"Nor have I heard any of them mention _you_," said Erik.

Raoul sighed heavily and decided to introduce himself properly, "I'm Raoul de Chagny. Christine and I have been friends since we were children and I go to the same boarding school as her. Now, I have come to speak with her and I would be grateful if you would let me in to wait. Otherwise, I'll be waiting out here in my car but either way I _will_ talk to her… If you really think I'm going to nick something then I'm sure you are more than capable of watching me…"

"And watch you, I will, Mr. de Chagny. Wait in the drawing room," Erik said, stepping away from the doors and pointing to the room he spoke of.

Although Erik didn't want Raoul anywhere at all in the house, he knew that Christine would be upset with him if he let the boy wait outside in his car until they returned. He was also suspicious of the reasons the boy had come all this way just to talk to Christine, especially knowing what Christine had told of him just that morning. And, what of the night to come? – Erik knew that Michael would not have Raoul driving another four hours that day to get home; he would probably ask him to stay for the night. Erik did not like that idea, at all. What if he and Christine reconciled? Would she agree to go out with him?

Erik would not have to wait terribly long to find out as he heard the Daaés' car in the driveway…

* * *

"Raoul, what are you doing here?" Christine said happily as she hugged him in the entrance hall, "I _thought_ that was your car in the driveway." 

"I came to see you, I know we did not leave things very well on Friday and I did not want to have us not talking for the whole holidays," Raoul said as he returned her hug.

"Oh, I'm glad to see you," she said.

Just behind them, Michael and Sarah came in the door, both happy to see him. "Raoul, my boy, it's been too long, how are you?" Michael asked, as Christine and Raoul broke apart.

"I'm well, Mr. Daaé, thank you. And how are you?" Raoul moved away from Christine and towards her parents as she, herself, went to talk to the distinctly unpleased-looking Erik, standing in the shadows of the hallway.

She placed her hand on the crook of his arm, which was still folded across his chest, and squeezed gently. Erik, though he was not used to the contact and was not in the mood to be touched, could not force himself to shrug her hand away. She, the only one to offer him physical comfort, would not be shunned as he had been, many times in the past. However, though he could not shun her physically, he could not stop his sharp tongue.

"Erik, what's wrong?"

"Why should there be anything wrong?" he snapped.

"Well, it's just that you seem to be upset about something."

"Do I?"

"Yes… is it Raoul? Has he done something to upset you?" she asked, "You were fine this morning…"

"What makes you think that that _boy_ could upset _me_? Excuse me," he said as he turned his back on her and headed swiftly to the rear stairs.

"Erik, wait…" Christine called after him.

Raoul walked up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder, "What's wrong with him?"

Christine didn't say anything…

* * *

"So, he's your brother, then?" Raoul asked. He and Christine were sitting in the living room while her parents prepared lunch for the five of them. She had not seen Erik since he had disappeared up the rear stairs shortly before. 

"He is _not_ my brother," Christine said, perhaps a little too sharply, "I mean… we're not related and he calls my parents by their given names so he's _not_ my brother in any sense of the word. Besides, they have not adopted him, they are only fostering him."

"Alright… Anyway, what's wrong with him?" Raoul asked.

"'_Wrong with him_'? There's nothing '_wrong with him_'."

"Well, he's the rudest person I've ever had the misfortune to meet, not to mention, the most hostile."

"Don't be so hard on him, Raoul; he hasn't had as easy a time of it as we have. Imagine how you'd feel if you didn't live with your own family and had to rely on the kindness of others to get the things you wanted. If that happened I don't think either of us would cope well and I think we'd be entitled to be slightly hostile. Besides, he's never like that with me…"

"I'm sorry, Christine, I didn't come here to upset you… he was just very short with me earlier…" Raoul said sincerely.

Christine stood up and offered her hand to him, "Come on, Raoul, let's go have lunch. I'm sorry for snapping at you."

"Christine? Why does he wear that mask?" Raoul asked.

"I expect he'd tell me if he wanted me to know…" she replied before heading out the door towards the dining room.

* * *

At the dining table, Erik made perfectly sure he would be sitting next to Christine and that Sarah would be sitting at her other side. He could not, however, stop Raoul from sitting across from her. 

"So, Christine, what have you got planned for your birthday?" Raoul asked as they all began to eat.

"Your birthday?" Erik asked, incredulous, "You never said it was your birthday."

"Well, it isn't for another two weeks yet, Erik, and I've only been home two days," Christine said, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you… but I didn't think you'd be bothered."

"Where would you get such a ridiculous idea as that from?" he snapped, looking away from her.

"Erik…"

"Christine, leave it, sweetheart," her father said.

She turned back to her food briefly before answering Raoul, "I haven't really planned anything… I'm just glad to be home… but I was hoping that Meg and a few other friends would come over and, of course, you're more than welcome to join us…"

"I'd love to, Christine," Raoul said. "Will it be on your actual birthday, or, the Friday before?"

"I'm not sure yet, Raoul, but I'll let you know."

"I look forward to it."

Christine turned back towards Erik as Raoul and her parents started to speak about the things he had planned for his holidays.

"Erik," she said, softly, "I'm sorry I've upset you. I didn't mean to…"

"You haven't upset me, Angel."

"You have not been yourself today since we left for Mass… is it something I've done?" she asked.

Erik finally turned to look at her and sighed at the expression of concern on her face. "No, sweet angel, nothing you've done. You are far too good to be so concerned about upsetting me, I assure you, I am not worth it…"

"You _are_ worth it, Erik. Don't _ever_ think that you are not."

Raoul turned back towards Christine and noticed the way she and Erik were almost huddled together, whispering. He did not like it one bit. He did not trust Erik with Christine and he certainly didn't like the way they were talking to each other. Raoul fumed silently as Christine put her left hand on the crook of Erik's right arm, which was lying on the table between them, and kept it there. Spurred on by Erik covering Christine's hand with his own, Raoul decided he would try to irritate him like Erik had done to him from the moment they had encountered each other at the door.

"So, _Erik_, how do you feel about having a new sister?" he asked, smugly.

Erik dropped his fork sharply on the plate and looked up. He hadn't expected _that boy_ to ever willingly speak to him and he couldn't believe what he'd said. "She is _not_ my sister."

"Raoul…" Christine, Michael and Sarah said, warningly.

"What is she then, _really_? Her parents are fostering you, that makes you siblings, or, at the very least, foster-siblings. I'll ask you again, how do you feel about having Christine as your baby sister?"

Everyone could tell that Erik was extremely tense but none of them could think how to stop it, short of chucking Raoul out of the house immediately, of course, something none of them would do.

"Christine is no more my sister than you are her boyfriend," Erik replied, curtly.

"So you say, Erik," Raoul said calmly as he lifted his glass to take a sip.

"Raoul, stop it _now_," Christine warned.

"I was merely making conversation, Christine. It's not my fault if your new brother has a problem with his harboured feelings for you." Raoul smiled insolently towards Erik and rejoiced in his triumph.

Pulling his napkin out of his lap and depositing it on the table, Erik stood up and removed himself from the room and _that boy's_ presence.

"For God's sake, Raoul, what did you have to go and say that for?" Christine said as she got up too and left the room to go after Erik.

Michael caught up with her in the hallway and put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. "Let us go and talk, Christine… in the lounge."

"What is it, Daddy?"

"Do you have any idea why Raoul would want to upset Erik?" he asked.

"No, none at all… I told him earlier not to give Erik a hard time and he seemed to accept that then. I don't know what's gotten into him – he isn't usually so inconsiderate. But, I don't know why Erik got so upset… he often seems so uninterested when it comes to others – like with Mr Harper-Matthews."

"I don't really think this is to do with Raoul," Michael said, "not in the way you might think. I don't suppose they'll ever like each other nor will they be friends but I doubt it's just because of Raoul."

"Well, what was that all that about, then?" she asked.

"Christine, don't you know he cares for you?"

"Raoul?"

"No, not Raoul… _Erik_."

Christine looked at her father, unconvinced, "You think Erik cares for me? We've only known each other two days…"

"I know that, Christine, but I don't think you can quantify what Erik feels in terms of days… I know it's a lot to take in but I think he's jealous of Raoul and I know that Erik cares about you dearly. Raoul, apparently, can see that too."

"I had no idea," she said, softly.

* * *

Erik had his back turned towards the music room door, leaning over the desk, when Christine entered and did not turn around as she moved closer to him. 

"Erik, I'm sorry that Raoul said those things… he should not have done so."

Erik immediately straightened his back and bristled at the mention of the _boy's_ name. "Get away from me, _sister dear_, I wouldn't want your _boyfriend_ to get the wrong idea."

Without turning around, he could tell that he had upset her and, with an anguished sigh, he realised, that to hurt her was only to hurt himself. He turned around to see she was crying silently and immediately cursed himself.

"Don't cry, Little Angel, I'm sorry I snapped at you. You do not deserve my anger…" Erik said as he moved towards her. He reached his hand out to her and called to her softly, "Come here, Angel. Come, let me hold you."

She stepped into the circle of his arms and cried into his shoulder as he hesitantly wrapped her in his arms and stroked her back gently. She felt amazing to him; just holding her like that was bliss. And the smell of her hair made him light-headed… he wanted to hold onto her forever and never let her go.

"Precious Angel, forgive me my cruelty. I would _never_ willingly hurt you… I have never known such a delicate beauty; I fear my callousness will bruise you."

She leaned back slightly and looked up at him as he wiped her tears away with his thumb, still holding her with one arm around the small of her back. "Am I forgiven, Angel?" he asked her and, looking into her stunning blue eyes, he knew instinctively that he was…

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, October 2005


	7. Chapter 6: Better Strangers

**Et Velle Et Perficere**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own POTO… but I do own Croft Manor and Jeremy Harper-Matthews. Plus, the title for this chapter is a nod at _As You Like It_.

Please read and review…

**Chapter 6: I Do Desire We Be Better Strangers…**

Almost two weeks passed by rather swiftly for everyone at Croft Manor, and it was now the Friday before Christine's seventeenth birthday. Raoul, Meg and a number of other guests would be arriving that night to stay the weekend for Christine's birthday on Sunday. As it was, the guests would have a staggered arrival and Meg and her mother were the first to appear.

"Oh, Meg, I've missed you," Christine said as she hugged her.

"I've missed you too, Christine, you wouldn't believe how much Uncle Marcus can find to complain about his son. Lord, I'm glad to get away from it all."

"Meghan Giry," her mum shouted, "I will not have you talking of your uncle that way, not to mention, taking the Lord's name in vain. If we were at home, I'd ground you."

"Sorry, Mum," Meg called, rolling her eyes towards Christine.

"Don't you roll your eyes at me, young lady."

"How did she know?" Meg asked Christine, who laughed softly.

"Thirty odd years of being a teacher, I should think, Meg," Christine said. "Come on, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

Erik was watching from the top of the stairs as Christine beckoned him to come down and welcome their guests. He reluctantly made his way towards them as Christine introduced him. "Meg, Mrs. Giry, this is Erik. He'll be boarding with us at Garron Tower next year. Erik, this is Meghan and her mother, Mrs. Giry. Meg goes to school with me and Mrs. Giry is one of our teachers."

"Hello, Erik," they both said, and he nodded his head towards them, moving to stand beside, and slightly behind, Christine.

"Meg, I hope you don't mind sharing with me," Christine said.

"Sharing with you? Thank God… you wouldn't believe how my cousin Rachael snores…"

"Meghan," Mrs. Giry said, warningly.

"Well, I'll show you to your rooms, then. You know Raoul, he and his brother will be joining us and Mr. Harper-Matthews, too – he and Daddy seem to have hit it off. Mum reckons they'll be best friends before the evening's out – they already share in-jokes together so don't worry if you haven't a clue what they're going on about. Also, you haven't met Richmal but he'll be here – he's a friend of the family. There might be a couple of my parents' friends there, too, but I think that's all," Christine said as she moved up the stairs with Meg and her mother.

Erik looked up at her longingly – he had not been able to spend much time at all with her today due to all the preparations and he knew he would get even less time with her over the weekend to come. Christine caught his glance and smiled at him, causing his heart to flutter. She motioned for him to wait there and held one finger up that she would be back in a minute.

After she'd gotten Meg and Mrs. Giry settled in, she left them to freshen up and returned downstairs to find Erik where she'd left him. "I'm sorry, Erik, I know I've been neglecting you…"

Erik suddenly felt very selfish that she felt she was neglecting him when it was her birthday and her right to enjoy herself in the company of whomever she pleased. "Do not feel you have to spend time with me, Christine. I am aware that you have far more _desirable_ company to choose from…"

"Erik, don't say that, please… you know that it's not true."

"I'm sorry, Angel. I forget that you have a penchant for spending time with degenerates," he said sourly.

"Jeez, Erik, whatever it is that is eating you must be suffering _terribly_," Christine laughed, bringing forth an unintentional smile from Erik. "Come on, let's see if we can't find something to do together until the others arrive," she said as she grabbed his hand and pulled him along with her.

Erik thought for a moment and smiled softly, "Slow down, Angel, have you any idea where you are going?"

"I'll know when I get there."

Upstairs, both Meg and her mother could hear a man's riotous laughter coming from the ground floor. Meg wondered if they had somehow brought the Black Butler with them. Mrs. Giry wondered what the bloody hell was so funny.

* * *

Later that night, after all the guests had arrived, everyone was seated in the main dining room eating supper. Michael was engrossed in a conversation with Jeremy while Sarah talked to Richmal and his wife, Francesca. Meanwhile, Philip was talking to his brother, Raoul, and Mrs. Giry. That left Christine, Erik, Meg… and _Carlotta_, Richmal and Francesca's daughter, to talk amongst themselves at the other end of the table. Carlotta also happened to go the same school as Raoul, Christine and Meg, though she was only a part-time boarder, and needless to say, there was no love lost between them. And neither Christine nor Erik was best pleased at the amount of attention she was giving him. In fact, Christine was downright annoyed and Erik was concerned that his angel was not happy. 

"Tell me about yourself, Erik. I want to know everything there is to know," Carlotta said as she leaned closer to him, only resulting in making him move closer to Christine, however. He wasn't a very relaxed sort of person as it stood, even if it had been Michael who had leaned that close to him, he probably would have moved away – but this was different… Michael did not have the same interest in him as Carlotta did. In fact, Erik was quite sure that this woman was only doing this to upset Christine… and that did not wash with him at all. He knew that Christine was the only woman ever, even at their young age, whom he would allow – encourage even – to get closer to him. So, he was determined to keep his angel happy and Carlotta away from them.

"There is nothing to tell, Miss Sinclair," he replied shortly and quickly started a conversation with Christine to avoid anymore unwanted questions from the unctuous girl sitting on his right.

Carlotta, however, was not to be dissuaded… "Oh, come on, surely there is something to tell. What about your parents? Or you family? Tell me about them…"

"Excuse me, Miss Sinclair, but I would appreciate it if you would not interrupt me when I am speaking to this striking young woman sitting on my left. My parents are dead, thank you for reminding me… Now, if you don't mind, I was sharing a riveting conversation with Christine about the brand of dental floss she uses, excuse me again," he said, deadpan, turning back towards Christine as she started laughing uncontrollably. "Angel, your laughter is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard. Don't ever stop…" he said to her as she placed her hand on top of his on the table.

Carlotta was gobsmacked and Raoul was jealous. Meg, however, was highly amused at the exchange and the only one of the three not to be plotting revenge upon either Erik or Christine.

* * *

Saturday, the eve of Christine's seventeenth birthday, had gone by faster than she had expected. There had only been a minor few hiccoughs, in the form of Carlotta, to deal with and everything else had gone much to plan. It was now very early Sunday morning and everyone… most everyone, that is… was asleep in bed. 

Erik crept, unnoticed, across the hall and into Christine's room, the room she was currently sharing with Meg, without knocking. He approached the large four-poster bed the girls were sleeping in and paused to admire his angel's breathtaking beauty. She looked so peaceful… But, if he were going to do what he had planned, he would have to disturb her, even if it were done so, begrudgingly.

He gently pulled back Christine's side of the duvet and lifted his angel into his arms. She was so light… and she barely stirred as he carried her through into his own room and placed her on top of the bed.

"Christine, little angel, wake up…" he said as he kissed the tip of her nose reverently. "Little one, I have a surprise for you."

She lazily stretched herself out, causing Erik to release an unintentional moan, and opened her eyes. "Erik?" she asked, "What am I doing in your room?"

"I have a surprise for you, sweetheart. I wanted to give it to you before the whole house started crowding around you and distracting you. I want you to receive my gift first, while it's quiet."

He held his hand out to her and drew her up to stand before leading her over to the corner by the wardrobe. "Here, Angel, for _you_…" he said as he threw back the cover of the object.

And there, underneath, was Old Dusty, though now totally undeserving of her name. She was newly dusted, newly polished and newly fixed – in complete working order. Christine gasped in amazement, she had not realised to what extent Erik would be able to fix her. "Oh, Erik, she's beautiful! I don't know what to say…"

"Your expression alone is worth all the work, Angel. Happy birthday," he said, smiling affectionately down at her.

"Erik," she squealed happily as she grabbed hold of him and squeezed him briefly, much to his surprise, "you're amazing. I love it… thank you so much."

"I assure you, you are very welcome, my dear."

Suddenly, she yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. "I'm sorry, Erik, I must still be tired. What time is it?"

"About six, Angel," he said, lifting her again as her knees almost gave out beneath her and set her on his bed, this time tucking her under the covers. "Go back to sleep, sweet child, I'll watch over you in your dreams."

* * *

Much later, after Christine's birthday meal, everyone was celebrating downstairs in the lounge. Christine thought, wryly, that it looked more like a Hogmanay party than a birthday party but she wasn't too bothered. And, she didn't know half of the people in her living room, but, she was happy to go along with it. At least she got to enjoy her birthday during the holidays, unlike Meg, who made quite sure to remind her of that fact every year. Champagne all round, her father had said, but only one glass each for the under-eighteens. Carlotta, however, seemed to be swaying, perhaps more unintentionally than not, to the music coming from the stereo system. She was also, much to Erik's disinterest, choosing to talk to him than to somebody who was less offended by her presence. He was under the impression that his angel could find good in anyone, so, when she downright avoided Carlotta Sinclair, he knew immediately that he would detest the woman. And, he already detested the fact that she was acting as a sort of repellent towards Christine, so much so, that he hadn't had a conversation with her all night. 

Christine, however, was privy to Erik's plight and decided she would go and save the poor man from his unwanted appendage. "Erik, there's a private phone call for you. You can take it in the sitting room."

Erik gratefully followed Christine out of the room and up the stairs to the first floor landing. "I thought you might want out of there," Christine said, smiling, "unless, of course, you have a sudden and uncontrollable attraction towards Carlotta Sinclair."

Erik scoffed, "My taste is not failing me so _dreadfully_."

"Good, you have not taken a total leave of your senses, then."

"More than that, Christine, I would have to be physically unconscious to show even the vaguest attraction towards that witch." And, he smiled at her affectionately, so pleased that she still found his company appealing.

Christine sighed, "I feel sorry for Richmal, actually. I don't know where Carlotta gets it from but it's not from him – he's a diamond. But, we shouldn't be talking about her like this, it's not fair…"

"Come, Angel," Erik said, attracted to her unfailing kindness, "It's time we pretended to have a conversation over the phone in the sitting room."

From the bottom of the stairs, a livid young woman stood, listening to them laughing to each other softly as they headed further up the stairs to the second floor…

* * *

Christine came down the stairs more bouncily than usual, happy that it was her birthday and that she'd gotten to spend a lot of it with Erik. She found that she had made a great friend in him and she hoped that they would stay in touch forever – even long after they both left Croft Manor for university and to start their own lives. He was not with her now… they had spent quite a while in the sitting room just talking, and when she had suggested they go downstairs again and rejoin the party, Erik had excused himself for a moment with the promise that he would follow her down shortly. 

Unfortunately for Christine, she was confronted by Carlotta at the bottom of the stairs…

"Carlotta… are you not enjoying the party?"

"You stupid little cow," Carlotta spat out, "you're always so high and mighty… but now I know your secret…"

"_What_?"

"You're cheating on your boyfriend… with your _brother_," Carlotta laughed.

"What are you talking about, Carlotta? I _don't_ have a boyfriend and I _don't_ have a brother."

"You can't talk yourself out of this one… just wait until I tell everyone at school what you're doing. Forgive me if I'm wrong but incest is still taboo in this country as far as I'm aware…"

Erik was just coming down the stairs as Christine pushed passed him and ran back up towards her room. "What the hell did you say to her?" he barked at Carlotta.

"It's not my fault if the truth upsets her… Why don't we go back into the living room and have a drink, Erik? Forget about her, she's just a child."

Erik walked the rest of the way down the stairs and stood directly in front of her, folding his arms across his chest as he glared at her. "Don't you know that her innocence is attractive? Whereas, _you_ are just a degenerate – noxious and depraved – I feel debased just knowing that you exist and I do desire we be better strangers. Now you have upset my angel, something I do not take lightly to. You will regret it, I assure you," he said calmly as he walked away from her, up the stairs again, to find Christine.

He found her in her room, crying against her pillows as she lay curled up on her bed. "Oh, darling," Erik said, sitting on the bed next to her and pulling her up against him. "Shh, come here."

He lifted her off the bed to stand and held her in his arms as he had done that night in the music room about a fortnight previously.

"Christine, shh, Angel," Erik said, stroking her lower back soothingly as he held her. "Don't let her upset you. We all know that even if she changed tomorrow and became a thoroughly decent human being for the rest of her natural life, she would not be a fraction of the woman you are at this one second, dear angel."

"Do you mean that?" she sniffled.

"I have never meant anything more," he said as he lifted a hand to stroke her face and collect her tears. Holding her face in his hand, he brought her chin up and found he had an all but sudden urge to kiss her. He didn't quite know what to do so he realised he would have to rely heavily on instinct and Christine's judgement.

He brought his head down close to hers and felt a shiver go up his spine as her breath brushed against his chin. She was breathing shallowly now, her tears having stopped, but, more significantly to Erik, she had not made any motion to pull away even as their lips lay only a scant few millimetres apart. He moved his head and brought his lips ever so slightly closer to hers as he licked his own to wet them, brushing his tongue deliciously, if accidentally, against her bottom lip.

Christine trembled excitedly and closed her eyes as he again moved ever closer, drawing her body flush against his. His heart was racing furiously now, knowing that there was nothing lying between them, nothing that could stop him from sampling the sacred and hidden delights of the angel's mouth. He closed the remaining distance slowly, drawing out the experience and the anticipation for both of them. Finally, he nipped her lips delicately with his, their first kiss lasting no more than a mere second and serving only to further draw out the expectation and to allow him his first experience of her.

Her soft lips more than stood up to his expectations of her and again he drew himself forward, this time to kiss her properly. He pushed his lips flush against hers and kissed her fully on the mouth, delighting in the feeling of her reciprocating. She was _delectable_, the taste of her something he knew could never be surpassed and he would most likely never feel again.

He did not seem to be capable of much rational thought anymore but he wondered, vaguely, how he knew what to do. Her hands were pressed against his chest and he could feel her fisting them in the material of his clothes. _How can I be doing **this** to her_, he thought, _how is it that I'm causing an angel such pleasure?_ He felt an uncontrollable craving to take their kiss further and, again running on instinct, he sucked her lower lip between his and nibbled it softly, causing Christine to moan delightedly.

He backed her up against the wall and held her against it to make them as close as they possibly could be, forcing her to move her hands up and drape them around his neck as he kissed her more fiercely. She sighed as she felt him brush his tongue against her lips again, this time fully intentional, and she opened them briefly to do to his lip what he had done to hers.

After several long minutes of kissing, neither of them was eager to part but both knew they had to before they were missed, so Christine pulled back slowly. Both hers and Erik's eyes remained shut for many seconds afterwards as they basked in the shared intimacy they were experiencing. Erik was the first to open his eyes and marvel at the beautiful woman before him. She was exquisite and he felt every bit the handsome prince as he looked down at her beautiful face and thought on the reality that he had just been kissing her. They had shared their perfect first kiss together and Erik knew he would never feel such a pure high again, also knowing that it was something _that boy_ would never be able to steal from him.

"Angel," Erik whispered reverently.

Christine opened her eyes lazily and looked up at Erik, one single joyous tear running down her left cheek.

Erik was _crushed_… he could almost _feel_ his heart breaking… She had been crying, she _was_ crying and he had taken advantage of her grief… He had become as wretched as everyone thought he was, as unworthy of her as he had always known he was…

"Oh, Christine, _Angel_," Erik sobbed as he released her from his hold, "I am so sorry, I can't believe I put you through that. You must truly hate me now if you didn't before. Please, try to forget it… I know you will be disgusted for a while but it will pass, I am sure. Oh, _Angel_, I'm sorry…"

It took Christine a number of seconds to realise exactly what he was saying and she looked at him, utterly confused. "What are you talking about, Erik? I don't hate you; I _couldn't _hate you. And that kiss, Erik it was _amazing_, not disgusting…"

"It's so sweet of you to try to make this vile creature feel better, Christine. You truly are an angel… But you need not lie to me, I know the horror I have put you through… I won't force you to look at me another second…"

"Erik, wait…" Christine called as he fled the room as quickly as he had come.

She couldn't help the tears of sorrow that followed his departure and she crumpled down to the floor in agony as she cried.

A short time later, having heard her crying, a bewildered Jeremy found his favourite charge lying in that very position as she sobbed against her knees. He immediately drew her up against him and held her as he tried to comfort her. "It's alright, Blue Eyes, cry it all out. I'm here… I've got you…"

Little did they know that someone had been watching the whole exchange from the very beginning to the very end and they would have their revenge. It might take some time but they _would_ have their revenge…

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, October 2005

I know that this is only Chapter 6 and the whole kiss thing was a bit fast, but, chalk it up to the champagne and it will be resolved/tied-up in the next chapter.


	8. Chapter 7: As If You Had Been Dead

**Et Velle Et Perficere**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own POTO… but I do own Croft Manor. Plus, the title for this chapter and a small conversation between Erik and Christine is a nod at Gaston Leroux, of course. I expect you'll all recognise the last line too…

Please read and review…

**Chapter 7: And You Looked As Beautiful As If You Had Been Dead…**

Christine was painfully aware that Erik had been avoiding her ever since the kiss they had shared the night before. It was midday Monday and the last of the guests had just left. Sarah and Michael had gone to rehearsals at the theatre, he and Jeremy having actually swanned off somewhere to discuss productions or some other such subject. Erik and Christine, therefore, were left alone in the house together. Not that she could have confirmed that if someone asked her, having seen neither hide nor hair of Erik since the night before. She hadn't told anyone about the kiss they had shared either – partly because she felt Erik would not be very pleased with her if she betrayed his privacy and partly because she had already fallen asleep by the time Meg got to bed. She hadn't even been able to find it in herself to tell Jeremy, who had been so very worried for her and had done all that he could to comfort her. She had cried herself to sleep in his arms and he had put her to bed, concerned but unsure that he could do anything to help.

As it was, Christine found Erik in his room, when she finally decided to go in. He was reclined on top of the covers of his bed trying to read a book. 'Trying' being the operative word, of course… He shrugged away from her when she sat down beside him and placed her hand on his arm. "Erik, please… don't be like this."

"What exactly do you want me to be like, then, Christine? Lord knows, I can't be beautiful for you…" he said as moved over to stand by the window.

"Erik, I don't know why you think so lowly of yourself. Last night was _amazing_… up until the moment you decided you had to run off for no reason, of course. I don't know what's behind your mask, Erik, but–"

"Then rest assured you will never have to find out," he cut her off.

"Erik, explain it to me, then. What happened last night that made you think that I had not enjoyed it and that you had to apologise? Tell me what makes you think you are not worthy of kissing me…" She moved over to him and put her hand on his arm again, this time not letting him shrug her off.

Erik sighed, "I took advantage of you… you were upset and I preyed on that. If anyone else had done that to you, I would have snapped their neck with my bare hands… And, as for my… _face_, just leave it at that, Christine, it is better that you think I am beautiful than know the truth… Trust me, it is that alone that keeps you from _dying_ out of shock."

Erik finally turned to look her in the eyes and a tear of utter sorrow fell down his left cheek. "If you knew how beautiful you were when you let me kiss you _alive_… It was the first time, _Angel_, the first time I ever kissed a woman… Yes, alive, I kissed you alive… and you looked as beautiful as if you had been dead…"

"Erik," Christine said, worriedly, "Erik…"

"Do not fret, Christine. I have no more desire to see you dead than I do to sit on national television solely in my underwear while blowing bubbles through my nose."

Christine could not help herself and laughed fully, wishing, at turns, that he could be more and less serious about the things they were discussing. She ignored his uptight feelings and threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly. Needless to say, he was rather taken aback…

"Oh, Erik… I wish you'd stop punishing yourself…"

"There is much I deserve to be punished for, my angel. None of which you know much about…" he sighed, wrapping his arms tentatively around her. "If I told you half of them, you would not wish to look upon me ever again…"

"You underestimate me, Erik. There is nothing you could have done that will make me turn from you now… that will make any of us turn from you now, Erik. You're a part of this family, whether you like it or not… and we take the good with the bad," she said adamantly.

Erik suddenly pushed her away from himself and turned his back on her once more. "You are far too naïve for your own bloody good," he shouted. "You think you can handle it all, well you're bloody wrong, I can tell you. Now, get away from me."

"Erik, this is me you're talking to… your _angel_, you can tell me _anything_…" He moved to push passed her and out of the room but she pulled him back roughly by the arm… something he had not expected her to do and so had not prepared for. The force of his upper body being twisted back around by her caused him to overbalance and, weighing much more than her, they both fell to the ground. However, unlike the last time they had found themselves in a similar situation, this time they were positioned in such a way that Erik's face struck the floor.

It all happened rather agonisingly slowly for Erik after that… His hands were caught underneath Christine so he could not immediately right himself… nor could he stop his mask from slipping rapidly down his face as the tie snagged and snapped, mask clattering deafeningly, at least in _his_ ears, to the floor. The knowledge, however, that it was going to happen and that Christine was lying beneath him, looking up at him, was clear in his mind. He shut his eyes in pain and waited for her to scream and to strike him to try to get away…

Christine, however, started crying at the sight of his poor, wretched face… He was truly and cripplingly disfigured, whereas Christine had thought he had an emotional, perhaps, mental deformity… She supposed, now, that he had had all three all along… The poor man, bless him, he was absolutely unsightly and she felt awful for having seen him while he was weak – something she knew he'd never forgive her for. She couldn't imagine what it was like for someone to be so despairingly embarrassed by their appearance that they would put up with the stares and questions drawn by a mask than let anybody see them as they were. Such humiliation, such shame he must have felt…

Erik let out an anguished cry and tried urgently to extricate himself from the heap they were in. But, in his panic, he succeeded only in raising his upper body further, exposing himself to her more, and becoming frantic in his desperation to escape. He was like a frightened animal, Christine thought, backed into a corner, knowing the only way to escape was to fight. Resolutely, Christine reached up and clung to him, not letting him run away from her this time. She held fast until he stopped moving, breaking down in sobs upon her shoulder.

"Do you see, now, Christine?" he cried. "You are privy to my darkest secret… can you handle it _now_, Christine?"

"I can handle anything you care to show me, Erik," she vowed. There was no way in the world she'd let anyone just continue suffering like this. Christine, kind as she was, would have comforted Carlotta even, had she been in this state. And she would have lied then too… "Don't cry, dearheart, you are beautiful to me…" She started stroking his back as he cried more intensely, and started to sing to him gently to lull him.

His breath caught in his throat as he heard her sing for the first time… Lord, she was exquisite… Her speaking voice was one thing but, compared to her singing voice, it did not give the merest suggestion of the beauty she possessed within. He was in heaven, a feeling almost as brilliant as the kiss they had shared the previous night.

The loss of tension in his body left him feeling suddenly tired as she sang to him of everything and nothing. Gradually, he began to relax, so much so, in fact, that his eyelids started to droop and he slowly fell asleep in her embrace, curled against her shoulder.

Eventually, she realised that he was sound asleep and stopped singing. She pulled a pillow off of the bed behind her and laid it on the floor, leaning him back against it as she laid a blanket over him and, as an afterthought, turned him on his right side in case anyone should come into his room while he slept. He looked so vulnerable like that, Christine thought. He was perfect…

* * *

The next week or so passed by more quickly than Christine had hoped. There was only roughly another week and a half before she would have to go back to school and she was not looking forward to it. She and Erik, however, were closer than ever and that was something she was entirely pleased about. Neither of them had mentioned the night his mask had fallen away, nor had they shared anymore kisses or anything other than a platonic relationship. However, that was not to say that neither of them wanted to resume where they had left off that night a week ago – but they were not ready… Christine was still dealing with the shock of witnessing his face for the first time and Erik was still reeling with his feelings of inadequacy. 

It also happened to be the day of Christine's exam results and she was completely anxious. Again, it was a weekday, so just Erik and Christine were home together. They were currently in the drawing room, waiting for the postman, as Christine paced back and forth, Erik looking on amusedly. "Darling, your pacing will no more make the postman come faster than it will change the exam results he's bringing you."

"I know… I'm just nervous," she said, finally stopping to sit beside him on the edge of the sofa. "I worked so hard for them… I want to do well."

"And you will," he assured. "I have every faith in you."

The noise of the letter box clattering shut made Christine jump up again and run for the front door. "Oh, my God, it's here…" she said as she looked down at the letter lying on the floor in front of her feet by the door.

"Come on, then," Erik called from the doorway to the drawing room, "Pick it up and we'll open it in here."

He certainly had the job of getting her to relax and open it cut out for him. She was practically frozen to the spot in the entrance hall, forcing him to gather the letter and Christine, herself, moving them all into the room they had previously been sitting in.

"Angel, you've been anticipating this since you got up this morning… since you sat the exams themselves, in fact. Open the letter," he urged.

"What if I've failed?" she asked meekly.

"Darling girl, you couldn't fail if you tried," he said, grasping her hands in his. "Do you want me to open it?" As she nodded, he carefully opened the envelope and removed the letter inside.

"AS Level exam results for Miss Christine Daaé on the CCEA board," he read, pausing to look up at her, "English: _A_… Art: _A_… Drama: _A_… And Music…"

"Erik, please… what did I get in Music?" she said as she looked at him pleadingly.

"Hmm, let me see… Music: _A_… What did you expect? Congratulations, my angel," he said as she squealed in delight and hugged him.

"Oh, I can't believe it… four _A_s! I can't wait to tell my parents when they get home. Now, all I've got to do is wait for my Grade results."

"When are they due?"

"Start of September…"

* * *

And all too suddenly it _was_ the start of September, the day before Erik and Christine were due to go back to school, in fact. For the seniors, school started back on the first Friday of the month though actual classes wouldn't start until Monday, so the two of them would be heading up there on the Thursday afternoon. Today was that Thursday… 

Erik was in Christine's room, both of their suitcases lying on her bed as they had been helping each other pack. They were just about done and were just making sure they had everything they needed. Erik had to take slightly more than Christine did because she still had most of her things back at school but she helped him decide what he would need. She told him that he would have his own room in the boys' boarding house, though, it would not be as lavish as the one he currently had. He, however, was just glad that he would not have to share like he did at the care home.

Christine was glad of the conversation he provided to help keep her mind off of the fact that she would be at school again for another couple of months until the next holiday. Erik was glad of the comfort her company provided him now that the time was upon them that they'd be leaving. As it was, they would have to leave in under an hour if they wanted to get there before dark. Michael and Sarah would be driving them as both of them had taken a day's holiday to see them off.

Christine had mentioned that the juniors would already have started that day and, while the seniors went to school tomorrow, the juniors would have the day off. She had also told Erik that she would show him around when they got there and introduce him to the other boarders. Clearly, he was not entirely pleased about meeting them and had been quiet for some time towards the end of their packing.

"I think we're all done," Christine said. "Daddy is bringing the car around so we'd better take our bags downstairs."

After they'd been placed in the boot and Michael and Sarah had gotten in the front, Erik and Christine spent a moment looking up at the home they would miss. There would be no more playing in the music room to all hours of the night, no more spending their days doing little more than talking, and no more Michael and Sarah to look after them. At least, though, Erik mused, they had each other.

Getting in the back, the two of them sat close to each other – as close to each other as the two seatbelts would allow, of course – and Christine clasped Erik's hand on the seat between them.

"This is it," she murmured. "At least I am not alone this time. We have each other…"

"You will never be alone again, I swear it, Angel… We have each other," he repeated, "for ever and a day."

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, October 2005

So… next chapter is their first day back at school… I know that we've covered a lot of ground in this chapter, but, considering that I plan the story to finish when they go off to university (alone or together – you will have to wait and see) then we have to get them back to school so their last year can start.


	9. Chapter 8: Why Are You So Beautiful?

**Et Velle Et Perficere**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own POTO… but I do own James and Jeremy, and I do go to Garron Tower. Plus, a little input from some dead man whose name I forget but will add if I remember… and the psychopath line is from some film Richard and Judy reviewed with Pierce Brosnan.

**Chapter 8: Why Are You So Beautiful…?**

"I can't believe you kissed him and you didn't tell me about it. I was there that night and I'm _supposed_ to be your best friend," Meg ranted. "I mean I didn't even know that the two of you were going out together… what else have you kept from me? I thought you and Raoul were together and, for God's sake, Christine, we were sharing a room the whole time and you didn't say a word…"

Meg and Christine were sitting on the bed in Christine's room. Christine had been back at Garron Tower for a little while that day and had just returned from making sure that Erik was settled into his room when Meg arrived and had come to see her. Christine had also just told Meg that she and Erik had shared an ill-fated kiss on her birthday…

"Jeez, Meg, wind your bloody neck in and give me a chance to speak," Christine said. "Firstly, Erik and I aren't going out… secondly, I was asleep that night when you came back to the room so I couldn't tell you then and the next morning you and your mum left early…"

Meg scoffed. "Well, forgive me for thinking that this was the 21st century and that there exists such things as phones."

"Alright, Meg," Christine sighed. "I'm sorry… I'll tell you, now, everything that happened… fair enough?"

"About bloody time," Meg grumbled.

"It started during the after-dinner party… I decided to save him from the clutches of Radioactive Orange Woman and we went up to the sitting room to pretend to use the phone. Anyway, apparently Carlotta was not fooled and, when I came back down alone, she said some horrid things to me…" Christine paused and sighed. "Well, to cut a long story short – Erik found me in my room upset… and he tried to comfort me… And then he kissed me but, for some reason, he got it into his thick head… men being men and all that… that he'd forced me… so he ran off…"

Meg hooked her arm around Christine's shoulders and gave her a hug. "Do you like him?"

"Of course I like him, Meg."

"Yes, but do you _like him_ like him?"

Christine sighed. "I don't know…"

Meg decided not to push it and changed her line of questioning. "Tell me what he was like… was he good or what?"

"Meg," Christine pretend-scolded then smiled softly as she thought about Erik's kiss. "He was… he was… Meg, he's _perfect_…" she sighed.

"Tell me more…"

* * *

Elsewhere, in the boys' halls, Erik was sitting on his new bed contemplating the very kiss Christine was telling Meg about in her own room. He had started unpacking his things when she left him to settle in but had stopped in favour of mentally dissecting everything that had happened between himself and Christine since _that_ night. 

It was a big thing for Erik… he had never kissed anyone before her, had never wanted to either… And, he now knew, rather disturbingly, that, despite his age and the brevity of their time together, he had met the woman he would spend the rest of his life loving… had loved her all along, in fact… He could still taste her… in truth, wanted to taste her again… but he doubted she'd want anymore physical contact with him after the first time when he'd taken advantage of her distress. And, certainly not after she'd seen him unmasked…

They had not talked about it since that day, in fact. She had said some things that day that he believed were merely her kindness trying to make him feel better… he didn't really believe that she thought he was beautiful… that he was worthy enough to kiss her. And so, he had not pressed the issue with her…

He also could not forget her singing… She was an angel in beauty, kindness _and_ voice… He wanted to help her be all that she could be and, if she would let him, he vowed he would make her voice soar. He would make sure that she received all the glory and the love in the world. He wanted to make sure that she never suffered as he had.

While he was musing, somebody knocked at his door. He was wary of answering it but was also aware that everyone already in halls had seen him come in with Christine earlier. He pulled open the door and was faced with a vision of colour…

'Subtle' was not a word one could use to describe the young man standing on the other side of the door. He had the most vibrant red hair and bright green eyes, endearing freckled cheeks and skin otherwise almost as light as Christine's. He was also in uniform and the vivid royal purple blazer did nothing to lessen the flamboyance of his appearance…

"James," he said, sticking his hand out. "I'm your welcome party."

Erik didn't say anything but gave the slightest step back to allow him in if he wanted. James happily accepted and waited for Erik to close the door behind them before he started speaking again. "I'm Head Boy," James continued, "so I've been sent to make sure you have everything you need and that you know the rules. But, I trust the Head Girl saw you in…?"

"The Head Girl?" Erik asked, confused.

"Yes… Christine… she brought you in, then?"

Erik nodded vaguely. He had not known Christine was Head Girl and now he was troublingly disappointed that it had been in her Prefect's capacity to make sure he got to his room without incident. Erik had been worried about Christine's relationship with Raoul before but now he was disturbingly concerned that she should probably be going out with her Head Boy…

"Anyway, I just came to run the rules by you quickly. Don't take them to heart; it's just a formality… One of the masters will be round later to give you the real lecture, alright?"

Erik nodded again as he sat down on his bed, James sitting himself down in the chair. "Good… Firstly, if you're found in the girls' halls after nine in the evening, expect to get it in the neck when the masters do their checks – I would make bloody sure that you aren't dressing or doing anything you shouldn't be then because they don't knock… You aren't allowed into the girls' halls before six in the morning either, not that you would be there then… You have to wear your uniform wherever you are on the grounds, whatever time of day it is unless you are in your own room. No drinking, no smoking, no drugs, no exceptions… Breakfast starts at seven, finishes at half eight… Assembly or registration is at nine… Ten periods a day – four until break, two between break and lunch, and four after lunch… the day finishes at twenty to four… then you are free to do what you please, providing you get your homework finished and so on. There isn't much to do up here during the week, so the lot of us usually resort to watching DVDs in halls – usually the girls' halls because Sir doesn't like them having to walk back from our halls to theirs in the dark, alone. And, they let us out at the weekends, would you believe? But, you need a master with you… still, it's better than nothing. Oh, and make sure you're on Jez's watch in that situation because he'll try anything once and he's not against letting us do what we want within reason. In fact, we had an impromptu field trip last year when he decided that we'd been working hard enough all year and deserved some first hand experience – he took us down to London for the day at a moment's notice and got it in the neck when he got back. But, he's a good sport…"

He paused from his long welcome speech for a moment but could not think of anything else that Erik really needed to know and would not find out on his own. "I'll leave your timetable on the desk with your locker key. Now, I have something else for you, too…" he said, handing Erik a small metal object. "It's your Prefect badge. Put it on your lapel…"

"Why have _I_ been made a Prefect?" Erik asked, incredulous.

"Christine _and_ Mr. Harper-Matthews both spoke out for you at the last meeting so the headmaster decided to give you a chance. Now, is Christine going to show you around?"

Erik nodded, "Do you know which room is hers?"

"It's on the top floor of St. Mary's… it says Head Girl on her door – you can't miss it. If you need me, look for the door that says Head Boy…" he said as got up and walked towards the door, bidding his goodbyes. "Expect Mr. Harper-Matthews this evening after tea…"

After Erik changed into his new uniform and made himself as presentable as he could for her, he headed out of St. Patrick's and towards St. Mary's to find Christine.

* * *

"So, how are you and James getting on?" Christine asked Meg. 

Meg broke into a smile at the mention of her new boyfriend's name. "We saw each a few times over the holidays and he wants to go out again next time."

"Good, I'm glad… he's a perfect gent. Do you think he'll ask you to the formal?"

"I hope so… you know, I forgot about the formal… I can't believe we get to organise it this year. And you, Miss Head Girl," Meg said, "will be in charge of everything."

A knock sounded at the door and Christine opened it to find Erik standing there looking miffed. "You never told me there was so much starch in this uniform," he grumbled, walking into the room.

"Nice to see you too…" Christine muttered. "Sit down; I'll stick the kettle on."

Meg got up off the bed and moved to leave, winking at Christine, "I'll leave you two alone… see you later, Christine. Bye, Erik."

Erik watched her leave curiously and then sat in the chair looking towards Christine again. "What was that about?"

"What was what about?"

"'I'll leave you two alone'," he said, imitating Meg.

Christine didn't answer for a moment as she made the tea, trying to think of an answer but coming up with nothing. "That's just Meg being Meg," she said at last, handing him a cup as she sat down on the bed again. Erik didn't really believe that that was all it was…

They talked of everything and nothing for a while until they were both finished, sitting in a comfortable silence for a moment until Christine suggested she show him around before it got too dark.

She started with the main building where the Union Jack and purple and gold school flag were flying at full mast again. She showed him everywhere he needed to know and she showed him a lot besides… like the large library, where there were more old books than he believed he would ever have the privilege of seeing in his lifetime. She went on to show him where Matron's room was, though warned him that she didn't get in until ten and left again at two and that it was pointless going to her as all she ever did was offer paracetamol for everything. She then took him around all the other buildings, paying particular attention to St. Joseph's, where the new Music Department was; and the Smokers' Hut, named for perhaps obvious reasons, though he was more interested to hear that it was used as a magazine during the war. In truth, he was following her in a blind state of awe as she kept him entertained with stories of every feature of the school as he had never had the opportunity in his difficult life to see such wonders.

He was particularly taken with the Church, which awed him with its sublime architecture; the Dog's Grave – he felt it was only fitting that a dog should receive such a large headstone and proper burial when there were many humans who did not deserve such attentions; and Calvary – the grand sculpture of the crucifixion – sitting up at the top of the mountain just before the plummet of somewhere around 300ft – it was almost out-of-place in amongst its surroundings. Christine told him of the boy who had died up there… or rather, had died when he fell down those 300ft to the hard road below. "Nobody knows why," she said. "We don't know if he fell, jumped or was pushed… he was a bit of a loner, apparently. It was ruled as an accidental death… but it makes you wonder why he was on the wrong side of the barbwire fence and passed by without heeding the last Danger sign…"

Christine saved the best until last… the old Music Tower haunted by the Black Butler. She told him of the myths and the strange things that went on there… every single one of the rumours. He had had no idea she liked scaring herself so much… it amused him terribly. "The first-years never come up here," she said, "they really think it's haunted… but, if you ask me, I think it's just Mr. Harper-Matthews playing them all for fools… he has such a strange sense of humour." Erik was not surprised – he would go along with the stories if it meant he could have this place all to himself… and he was completely enamoured by the old concert grand in the corner…

"You're in the same form class as me – I showed you where our form room is… in the Music Department. We've got assembly in the chapel on Fridays and registration for the rest of the days… except tomorrow as it's the first day – we'll have to check the whiteboard in the morning to see where we're supposed to be. And first Friday Mass every month, not to mention Sunday Mass every week… There, I think that's everything…" she sighed, exhausted. "Come on, we'd better go and get something to eat." She had never realised just how big her school was before until she had had to show Erik around…

* * *

Christine had introduced Erik to a lot of her friends and teachers during dinner… so many, in fact, that he couldn't remember all of their names and he found it unbelievable that anybody could be _that_ popular. They had ended up sitting with Meg and James, whom, Erik was pleased to have learned, was her boyfriend and therefore no threat to his tentative relationship with Christine. Actually, Erik quite liked him… he was so much the opposite of Erik but the contrast was not a bad one. 

Afterwards, Christine and Erik returned to his room to finish settling him in. He put his clothes away in the wardrobe and unpacked everything else while she put the sheets on the bed and got the things together he would need the following day.

"You don't have to do this you know," he said.

"It's only making a bed up, Erik… it's not like I'm taking the bar exam for you."

"I didn't mean that," he sighed. "You don't have to hang around with me because you feel obliged to do so – I am perfectly capable of existing independently."

"Lord, are you bipolar, or what? Not too long ago you were ecstatic about the piano in the Music Tower… now, you're getting all self-pitying. I wouldn't be here now if I didn't like you so stop being paranoid…"

"Why are you so beautiful?" he asked, suddenly, startling out of her bed-making.

"What?"

"In my experience, the most beautiful of people are the very cruellest and your beauty surpasses even theirs… so either you are far more conniving than you appear or you are truly an angel…" he said seriously. Christine was speechless…

"It is better to be beautiful than good. But... it is better to be good than to be ugly," he quoted, remembering the devastatingly beautiful woman who was supposed to be his mother. "She always thought so, at least…" he mumbled, more to himself.

"I meant what I said that day your mask came off," she said, watching him cringe. "I do think you are beautiful…"

"Codswallop," he scoffed. "I detest liars."

"How can you say I'm lying?"

"I am a psychopath," he said, "but I am not psychotic."

"Could have fooled me…" she snapped and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her… or she _would_ have and _intended_ to, but Jeremy had just arrived and was walking in as she flew passed him.

"What did you _do_?" he asked Erik. "I've never seen her angry before… and I've known her for years…"

Erik didn't say anything…

* * *

Later that night as Erik lay in bed, he berated himself for being so harsh with her when she had done nothing but try to make him feel better. He resolved that he would make it up with her as soon as he could and, if he were lucky, she would not hold his paranoia against him. 

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, October 2005


	10. Chapter 9: Her Beauty Made the World Dim

**Et Velle Et Perficere**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own POTO… but I do own Jeremy.

**A/N:** Thank you, dear reviewers, once again. James might just turn up next chapter though he's not in this one…

Please read and review…

**Chapter 9: Her Beauty Made the Bright World Dim…**

The next morning, Erik slipped into Christine's room just after six. She was awake but had not gotten up yet. "Erik? What's wrong?" she asked, raising herself up to lean on her elbows.

"What's wrong," he said, kneeling in front of her, "is the way I treated you last night. I was insufferably rude and I apologise. You and your parents are the only people I have ever met who showed me compassion and I threw it back in your face… I'm sorry. Christine… you must understand… I am not sure _how_ to react to you… You are so beautiful and yet you treat me as though I am your equal."

"Didn't Picasso say 'What _is_ beauty, anyway? There's no such thing'?"

"Yes, but his wife said that, if her husband ever met a woman in the street who looked like the women in his paintings, he would fall over in a dead faint. And besides, Pablo Picasso never bore witness to _your_ beauty…" He couldn't help smiling at her and gave a relieved laugh that she was not angry at him, "But, please do not tell me that I look like one of _his_ paintings…"

"You'll do," she said, nonchalantly, after a moment's pause.

Satisfied, Erik got up and sat more comfortably in the chair by the bed. "Perhaps, when you've had your shower and you are dressed, we could go to breakfast together…"

* * *

Breakfast, not to mention the time between it and registration, was a quiet affair. Everyone was tired and nobody really wanted it to be the first day yet so no one did anything to disturb the calm… 

Erik was nervous that it was his first day with a bunch of people who had known each other for, at the very least, six years… and some, much longer. Thankfully, however, Christine stood by him throughout and he felt better about it because of her. He was so thankful that she was in every one of his classes and had made very sure that he was sitting beside her in each… even in Art when they had been told to sit in alphabetical order, he had pressed the point that, seeing as her parents were currently fostering him, his last name was Daaé at present – a complete lie in every way, of course, but it did the trick… and he felt a slightly perverse thrill at being called Erik Daaé – a thrill that he knew should be reserved for prospective brides who were imagining getting used to their husband's name… However, the downside of sitting next to Christine was that he was also sitting beside a certain Raoul de Chagny… still, it was far preferable to having Christine and Raoul sit together.

Raoul, however, was not particularly pleased about this… he was used to sitting next to Christine and he was not thrilled that this git had wriggled his way between them at every turn. What's more, sitting beside the bastard didn't really do much for his mood.

They had first Friday Mass during third and forth periods, and Erik felt distinctly uncomfortable… Not only was it the first time he had been in a church environment since his mother had taken him years ago, but he was also plagued by the markedly unpleasant presence of Carlotta Sinclair beside him. She had sat down right next to him in the pew, when there were dozens of empty ones around him as few people were in yet, and had squashed right up against his side. He had been saving the space next to him for Christine but had had to inch slowly into that space to try to stop the contact between himself and Carlotta. That, however, meant that, when Christine came to sit down on his other side, she did not have enough room to be comfortable as the edge of the pew jabbed into her side.

"Carlotta, could you move up a bit, please?" Christine asked her.

"It's not my problem if you are too _fat_ to sit there… why don't you just sod off somewhere else? It's not as if you're actually _wanted_ here," Carlotta spat.

Christine's lower lip trembled in such a way that Erik wanted to draw it between his again and kiss her breathless… but he was far too offended by Carlotta and he wanted to break her neck for upsetting Christine.

Seeing an opportunity before anyone else sat down next to them, Erik harshly bumped into Carlotta and slid along the bench to give Christine more room even if that meant having to touch Carlotta in the process. He moved up so much, in fact, that there was too much room for both him and Christine, which he rectified by removing his blazer and folding it up on the seat between him and Carlotta. "If Christine is fat… then what does that make _you_?" he hissed into her ear.

Erik turned back to Christine and tried to resolve the hurt Carlotta had caused her. "Angel," he whispered, clasping her hand unnoticed between them, "The Angel Christine – for she was beautiful – her beauty made the bright world dim, and everything beside seemed like the fleeting of a shade."

Christine blushed endearingly and whispered back because the chapel was almost full by now. "How is it, that you can make me feel better just by quoting Shelley?" she asked.

"The fact that you know it was Shelley only proves to me how right I am about you and that it would make you feel better. It also confirms that none of these ignorant fools ever quote you poetry… how they are missing out…" His breath tickled her ear and she shivered as Fr. Walters came out of the sacristy and everybody stood.

Break was harder for Erik – Christine left him alone for a while to attend to some things herself and, much as he hated admitting it, he detested being separated from her, even only for fifteen minutes. Lunch was not something he wished to repeat either… it was far too noisy, far too crowded, far too stifling… He had spent all of it trying to ignore everyone and had sat watching a flittermouse flying about the ceiling many metres above their heads until it disappeared through one of the cracks in the corner of the wall. Christine noticed his uneasiness and promised that they could eat lunch in the library from now on if it would make him feel better – if that didn't work, they could always go to the senior rec., but she imagined that would be just as noisy as the canteen.

After lunch, time rolled by more slowly for Erik – he had study hall last two but had already finished his homework in class. He was utterly relieved when at last the final bell of the day sounded and every one of the day students rushed away for the buses. The part-time boarders would also be leaving today as it was Friday and they went home for the weekends. That left Erik at the school with two other boys, five girls and three teachers. At least, he mused, there would be peace…

* * *

Slightly later, Erik was sitting down on his bed for a moment's reprieve as he had just gotten in, when Christine burst into the room behind him without knocking. He was surprised but unsure whether she was excited or upset. A long moment of tense silence for Erik passed and Christine hopped down onto the bed next to him. 

She waved a piece of paper under his nose. "They're here," she said.

"What are?" he asked, curious.

"My Grade results," she said, handing them to him. "They must have arrived while we were in class. Do you think you could open them again like you did my AS Level results?"

"Of course, Angel," he said as he opened the envelope, quickly pulling out the letter inside. He gave it a quick glance over first, looking for the important words and then looked back up at her before he started speaking again.

"From the Associated Board of the Royal Schools of Music… blah, blah, blah… this is to certify that Christine Daaé… blah, blah, blah… sufficient standard… passed her Grade 8 with distinction…" He paused. "You've got it, darling," he laughed happily. "You passed your Grade 8 in singing _with distinction_. Congratulations…"

She laughed too, ecstatic, and grabbed him for a hug like the last time he had read her results, as she moved to give him a quick chaste kiss on the corner of his lips. "I can't _believe_ I've got my Grade 8…" However, Erik was so excited by his second taste of her, so long had it been since the first, that he involuntarily pulled her back for another, more impassioned, kiss.

He did what he had wanted to do earlier in the chapel and nibbled gently on her bottom lip – she spent so much time biting her lip herself, and he couldn't fault her for that… he very much enjoyed doing so himself; it was the most delectable thing he had ever done, in fact. He placed his hands on the small of her back underneath her blazer and pressed her more fully to him as her hands came up to rest against his chest. It had been at least a fortnight since he had last kissed her and he wanted to do it far more often than that if he were allowed…

That thought reminded him of what he was doing without her consent again, and so, he pulled back from the kiss to look at her. They were both half-kneeling, half-lying on his bed – a fact that did not escape him – and she was now reasonably dishevelled… her eyes were still closed and her lips slightly redder and more swollen than they had been before. He could not help but feel an obscure masculine pride that he had left her breathless… but he was more concerned, though, that he had kissed her _again_ without her permission and he waited for her to give some sort of reaction.

She opened her eyes and they shared a moment of intense silence before she let out a breathy sigh. "Erik…" she whispered as he piled his pillows up and leaned back against them. He looked at her flushed face and her shining eyes and totally misread her feelings again. He hastily got up from the bed and took on a stoic stance.

"Congratulations again, Christine," he said impassively, "I apologise for my behaviour… if you'll excuse me I need to finish up some work…" He opened the door and held it for her but she would not move. "Christine," he gestured to the door, "if you'll excuse me…"

"This is not the time to exercise your stiff upper-lip, Erik… I tire of your inexplicable mood changes."

"Get out," he growled.

"No," she insisted, folding her arms across her chest as she leant back against the wall. "If you expect me to just go after you've taken what _you_ wanted from me then you are mistaken."

"If you don't get out, _I'll_ leave, myself…"

"You do that, child, go pout and have your little strop somewhere else. You're doing nothing for the atmosphere…"

Erik was furious with her but he knew he could not and did not want to hurt her, so he left, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Much later, when Erik had calmed himself down, he returned to his room for the last checks as it was already rapidly nearing nine in the evening. Nevertheless, he did not expect to find Christine still in his room, sleeping on top of his bed, curled up in a ball. She had taken off her shoes but was still in her uniform and had not crawled under the covers. He knew that Mr. Harper-Matthews would be around soon to do the check so he knew he would have to wake her. 

"Christine, Angel," he said softly as he nudged her shoulder until she wakened. "Little one, it's nearly nine… you'd better be going before you are caught here…"

Christine had expected to be livid with Erik when he returned but she softened at his tone and the tenderness with which he treated her. She took a moment to regroup herself and yawned into her hand. Erik laughed musically and stroked her hair behind her ear before being surprised by Mr. Harper-Matthews as he came in.

Needless to say, the situation was rather awkward – Christine lying languidly in Erik's bed at nine o'clock at night with all the lights off… him standing over her having just been startled out of stroking her hair. Jeremy was not best pleased…

"What the hell is going on?"

Christine got up and approached him, deciding that she'd better be the one to explain as Jeremy was very obliging when it came to his favourite student. "Sir, I was here earlier to get Erik to open a letter with me, that's all… He left soon after and I must have fallen asleep as he's only just returned. It was my Grade results…" she said innocently, blinking up at him.

"Your Grade results… of course, I got them too. Congratulations are in order, my dear… But this is not a situation I expected to find _you_ in…"

"I swear, sir, nothing debauched happened tonight. You trust me, don't you? You _know_ I would not do such a thing…" she said, blinking up at him ingenuously.

He looked at her guardedly for a moment before admitting that it was not something she would do, at all. "I suppose I shall have to take your word for it _but_… I don't expect to find a tableau like this again. Are we clear on that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright, Christine, I'll give you a moment to get your things and I'll come back to take you across to St. Mary's when I've finished – it's dark now and I don't want you going across alone…" he said as he left the room.

Christine was relieved… usually if someone were caught in such a position, they would get a detention or an imposition at the very least – expelled if they were caught in the act, as it were… not that that was an often occurrence… but she had gotten away with it.

"Lord," Erik sighed. "Thank goodness you're so in with the teachers, you anorak," he teased. "We could have been up to our necks in it, but _you_ cannot get into trouble for anything… you're like Teflon."

"Why thank you for comparing me to the non-stick covering of pans," she said dryly. "I have never been flattered so much in all my life."

"One could be called worse…"

"Like fat…" she said as she thought about what Carlotta had said earlier in church.

Erik was worried now – there was not an ounce of fat on her but it could do damaging things to her confidence if she were to believe what that stupid cow had said. "Christine," he said seriously, holding her by the shoulders, "calling you fat… is like saying that Carlotta Sinclair is a distinctly likeable individual. We both know that neither is true… don't we?"

"I suppose…"

Erik was not satisfied… he wanted to make perfectly sure that she knew she did not need to lose any weight. "Christine," he said again, pulling her over to the full-length mirror, "you have the perfect figure… can you tell me truthfully that you can see _any_ imperfections on your body?" When she did not answer he removed her blazer, then lifted her shirttails and jumper in one go so that she could see her midriff. He turned her sideways and placed his hand flat across her stomach pointing out just how thin she was. "Don't let that _bitch_ make you feel unlovely – you are the epitome of perfection and, if you ever feel flawed in any way, I want you to tell me… you know you can tell me anything."

Christine couldn't help herself… "That's not what you thought this afternoon," she said. "You kissed me and thought I wasn't good enough…"

Not sure whether he should be thankful or not as Jeremy walked in and saved him from answering Christine, he dropped his hands from her and her shirt and jumper slid back down before Jeremy saw what they had been doing.

He had, however, noticed her now absent blazer and the fact that her purple shirttails were showing below her jumper. "I don't believe it… I mean, only _you_ would be less ready than when I was here before…" he said dryly. "Especially after I told you to get your things together – that was not code for 'undress', you know…"

"And _you_," he said, turning on Erik, "you shameless cad… you should not encourage her. I swear, she'll be the death of me yet…"

* * *

After Christine had left with Mr. Harper-Matthews, Erik changed quickly and got into the bed his beloved had been sleeping in for most of the evening and was delighted to find that he could smell her scent on his pillows. She was _intoxicating_ even when she was not there with him… 

He thought of their kiss again – the second kiss that had not turned out as he'd expected afterwards… he was worried that she would not want him to try again. Perhaps, if he could just be more patient… he resolved not to kiss her again until the time was right. He didn't know when that would be but he hoped fervently that it was soon…

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, October 2005


	11. Chapter 10: Society is No Comfort

**Et Velle Et Perficere**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own POTO… but I do own Jeremy, James, Jules, Imogen and Jessica… hmm, so many Js. The 'society' line is from Shakespeare and the 'solitude' line is from Francis Bacon. And, what Jeremy so readily believes about talking comes straight from Freud.

Please read and review…

**Chapter 10: Society is No Comfort to One Not Sociable…**

Breakfast the next day was much the same affair as the day before, except that there were only eight students and the skeleton staff present. It was always eerily quiet at the weekends… with one table in the far corner where the students sat together and the table adjacent to them where the teachers sat.

Those who were there though were slightly more upbeat as it was the weekend. They could leave the school premises if they wanted but they had to give prior notice and take one of the masters with them. Currently, they were deciding what they all wanted to do that day… it was, unfortunately, a conversation they had every weekend and they were always split. That usually meant that one group would go with Mr. Harper-Matthews somewhere and the other group would go with Mrs. Giry somewhere else, leaving the priest to remain behind as caretaker.

This week, half of them seemed agreed on going to the cinema in the evening while the other half were still undecided and discussing going somewhere else. Christine and Erik were in the first group… with Meg and James. They had also decided that the teacher they wanted to take was Mr. Harper-Matthews – partly for Meg's sake so that her mother would not be watching over her the whole time and partly because Jeremy was a great deal of fun. Unfortunately, the other group had also decided they wanted him…

Mrs. Giry was not offended and found it amusing that they fought over him so, and Jeremy liked to be chosen… In the end, of course, he decided he wanted to go to the cinema with the first group.

"Come on, people, that's not all we can do today… it's only nine," he said, looking at his watch. "I'll take you into town soon and we can do what you like till it's time to go to the cinema. Sound alright…?"

* * *

"You're lucky I'm not making you pay for petrol," Jeremy said wryly as the five of them stood in the petrol station, "you cheeky git. Imagine… asking me to buy you sweets… you have no shame, Christine Daaé, but we love you for it." 

"Oh, go on… I'll share them with you…" she said sweetly.

"_Share_ them with me? I'd be the one buying them… I'd expect bloody more than that."

"Alright," she huffed, "you can have the orange ones…"

Jeremy turned to look at her dramatically. "Can it be? Christine Daaé giving up her orange sweets… _a cold day in Hell…_!"

"You do yourself no favours, you know. If you spent less time being sarcastic and more time buying me sweets–"

"I'd be a very poor man with no sense of humour."

"Humph!"

After Jeremy had paid for the petrol _and_ bought Christine her sweets, they all got back into his BMW and headed off to town.

"Right everyone," he said when they got there. "I've got all of your mobile numbers so make sure that they're turned on and you can hear them. Stay in no less than pairs and phone me if something happens. I'll be somewhere about the shopping centre so I'll be nearby at all times if you need me. Don't swan off somewhere without letting me know… you know the routine… be back at the lifts by one and we'll go for lunch… everyone's watches are synchronised so if you're five minutes late, you won't be going out next week… Have a nice time…" He paused. "Oh, and don't forget – no fags and no booze… I'll be checking. If you're caught, I will personally flay you alive. Off you go, then…"

Perhaps obviously, Erik and Christine went one way while Meg and James went another. Erik found it strange how much fun he was having in the middle of a crowded shopping centre at the busiest time of week but Christine was such a powerful influence on his mood. He found particularly perverse the amount of pleasure he received in looking for a new dress for her… to his utter amazement he found that he wanted to dress her up as though she were some kind of doll and revel in her beauty… but it was an innocent sort of pleasure… he had only the best of intentions towards her.

They spent a lot of time window-shopping – in one particular shop, in fact, Erik had ignored the 'Do Not Touch' sign and had played Christine a sonata on one of the show-pianos. The shop assistant, who had originally gone to have him removed, stopped and listened as he entertained the customers. She even asked if he ever busked with another instrument. He didn't, of course – but only because he detested the crowds that would no doubt form.

All in all, he had quite a good day… He didn't buy anything for himself but he bought Christine a dress as a surprise present while she was in the toilets; it was perfect for her… He intended to ask her to go to the celebrations on Guy Fawkes Night with him, even though it was a couple of months away, and he hoped she would wear it then. Of course, they would have to get through seven weeks of school and the Halloween holidays before then… he hoped they would still be close by then.

When they got back to the lifts just before one o'clock, Jeremy was already there waiting… Meg and James had yet to arrive. "Thank God," Jeremy said dramatically, "I was beginning to look like a complete spanner standing here all by myself hanging about the pay-stations as though I'm some kind of God-forsaken scallywag… I tell you, next time we're meeting in one of the caffs. Now… hand over your bags, pets, time for me to get another formality out of the way…"

Christine laughed and handed him a bag with just a CD in it, which, of course, did not take long to check. Erik was reluctant to give Jeremy the bag with Christine's dress in it because she was standing right behind him. He gently pulled Jeremy to one side, so that she couldn't see, and handed him the bag.

"Should I be worried?" Jeremy asked apprehensively as he looked inside the bag. "You're not a cross-dresser, are you?"

Erik shook his head fervently. "It's a present for Christine… I didn't want her to see."

"Well, in that case… I commend you on your good taste, young man," Jeremy said, patting his shoulder as Meg and James approached them with considerably more bags. Jeremy sighed irritably and moved to check theirs. "It's always you two, isn't it? I swear, you _try_ to make things difficult for me… You couldn't have one bag… _no_…" he muttered sardonically, "You have to have _several_… the epitome of extravagance… what a pair." Christine couldn't help but smile at the way he _loved_ to complain… it was more than a hobbie for him – it was a _sport_.

After Jeremy had paid and they all got into his car, they left the multi-storey car park in favour of looking for somewhere to have lunch. "So, what do you fancy?" Jeremy asked as he drove down the dual carriageway. "Drive-through or sit-in? Actually, I know a good café… that suit everyone?"

They all agreed and headed off towards the restaurant-café Jeremy suggested. It was a nice place and quiet enough at that time of day that Erik was not completely uncomfortable. He sat down beside Christine, opposite Meg and James, while Jeremy sat at one of the ends of the table. "What are we all having?" Jeremy asked as they looked at their menus.

"I don't know about the little herbivore sitting across from me," Meg teased, looking at Christine. "But I want something with a bit more measure to it than celery."

"I don't even _like_ celery," Christine said, irritated. "You know, there's a lot more to vegetarianism than salad…"

"Whatever, Christine… You just nibble away on your lettuce while the rest of us have some real food."

"Sir…" Christine whined at Jeremy.

He was still looking at his menu but was rather amused by the conversation. "Yes, my little veggieburger?"

"Et tu, Brute?" Christine cried, melodramatically, hand over her heart.

"Oh, come on, Blue Eyes… if you want to eat rabbit-food, then who am I to stop you? Doesn't mean I can't tease you though…"

Soon after Jeremy had ordered, they were all eating enthusiastically and were talking about what film they wanted to see. James had a broadsheet folded over at the cinema listings on the table in front of him. "We can't see that new one," he said. "It's on too late for us to get back by last-checks at nine. And that comedy that you wanted to see, Meg… it started half an hour ago and isn't shown again until tomorrow. The rest are a load of crap… except the horror that the rest of us wanted to see… but," he said, looking up at Jeremy, "it's an 18 cert and we're all seventeen… and Sir is just _so_ proper…"

"Yes, yes… I get what you're saying… your subtlety, James," he said dryly, "is something to be marvelled at… You want me to let you see an 18… Fat chance, dears… unless you plan on telling the front-of-house manager that your uniforms are merely a political statement representing the social implication of the homogeneousness of the British government's dictations when it comes to 'public', that is, private schools…" he trailed off leaving everyone around the table suitably speechless. "The looks on your faces…" he laughed. "Fine… I'll get the tickets but the four of you are paying – for me as well – and you'd better keep out of sight… _and_ if you tell _anyone_ that I let you see an 18, I'll make bloody sure you can't sit on arses for a month…"

When they'd all finished and Jeremy had given the restaurant a cheque, they headed towards the cinema. It was just after three when they got there and the film started at half passed so Jeremy just got the tickets and took them straight in. The four teenagers had gotten the snacks while he was distracting the man with the tickets. It had been a real effort though getting them passed the man checking the tickets and towards the screens… Jeremy had struck up a conversation with him about the biggest load of piffle so that he would not notice the name of the film on the tickets as Meg, Christine, Erik and James had slipped passed him.

The film itself was hilarious – an odd thing to say about a horror movie – but the combination of the company they were in and the implausibility of the events in the film caused the five of them to laugh when everyone else was cringing. Jeremy was sitting in the middle of the row to keep an eye on everyone – also affording him the best view of the screen – with Meg and Christine on either side, and James and Erik at the outsides. They were sitting quite near the back in a reasonably empty screen – after all, it was half three in the afternoon and the only people who watch horror films at that time of day tended to be few and far between. Nevertheless, they had a great deal of fun…

* * *

Later that day, after they had all eaten, Meg, James, Raoul, Jules, Imogen and Jessica decided to head to the lounge in the boys' halls to watch a DVD. They had asked Christine who had gone to find out if Erik would join them first. 

He was reading a book on the bed in his room when she came in and sat with him. "We were all going to watch a film… do you want to join us?"

"No, thank you, my angel… but I've had enough needless social interaction and talking for one day," he said as he continued reading.

"I thought you enjoyed today…" Christine said, hurt.

Erik sighed, placing a bookmark where he had left off, and laid the book to one side. "I'm sorry, Angel, I've upset you again for no reason… of course I enjoyed myself today… I did not realise I could have such fun with so many people around… and it's all because of you." He paused and looked down at his lap. "To you, socialising is something you do everyday and something you would not wish to be deprived of… but society is no comfort to one not sociable."

"Whosoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god," she quoted from a lesson of Jeremy's that they'd had together earlier in the week, trying to make him laugh.

"And I think we both know which one of those I am…"

Christine moved closer to him and placed a comforting hand on his lower arm. "Erik, you know you can always talk to me about anything…"

"What the hell good is talking going to do?" he snapped, pulling his arm away from her.

"Well… apparently, and so Jeremy so readily believes, talking is a way of turning hysterical misery into normal human unhappiness… If you tell me what's wrong… perhaps I can make you feel better…"

"You flatter yourself…" he scoffed. "What makes you think _you _can help _me_…?"

Christine sighed and left the room, trying not to feel too upset as she made her way to her room to change into her pyjamas and robe before going to the lounge to join the others watching the film. After a while, Jeremy came wandering in, in his dressing gown for the last-checks. "Come on, people…" he yawned. "It's after nine… you should be in your own rooms doing… whatever."

"Come on, sir… let us watch the film till the end… it's a Saturday – it's not like we have to get up in the morning," Meg said.

"Yes, you do… you've got Mass in the morning and I'll get it in the neck if I let the lot of you stay up and you end up bleary-eyed in church tomorrow."

"But, even if you sent us to our rooms… you couldn't make us sleep… this way, we'll stay out of trouble and _you_ won't have to listen to us whingeing…" James argued.

"_Bloody children_…" Jeremy mumbled as he threw himself down into an unoccupied armchair by the television. Meg, James, Raoul, Jules and Imogen were sitting on the sofa, Jessica was sitting on the floor in front of them and Christine was sitting in the huge armchair opposite Jeremy.

Another short while later, a quiet figure entered the room and made his way over to Christine… He slid into the armchair with her and leaned back to watch the film… they were both slim enough that they could share the same chair without being uncomfortable and the fact that he had willingly sat down in it with her was his way of apologising… At his entrance, nobody had batted an eyelid… and he was glad. Christine, however, reached down and squeezed his hand gently but did not let go for the remainder of the film.

"Alright, you've gotten your way… now, off to your rooms before Mrs. Giry has my head…" Jeremy said when the DVD was finished.

As everyone got up reluctantly and made their way to their rooms, Christine stood out of the chair only to feel even more light-headed and fall back into the seat. Erik caught her worriedly and felt her forehead as Jeremy came towards them.

"What's wrong, Christine?" Jeremy asked, concerned.

"I don't know… I just feel dizzy… I haven't felt well since before we started watching this."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jeremy asked as Christine shrugged her shoulders.

"Look, I'm fine… I just feel a bit… out of sorts."

Jeremy laid his hand across her forehead and sighed. "Well, you have a temperature… I think we should get you to bed…" he said as he lifted her into his arms and carried her towards St. Mary's with Erik following, berating himself violently that he had not noticed she was unwell.

Jeremy got her up to her room and deposited her in her bed delicately as Erik stood awkwardly off to the side. Jeremy brushed her hair behind her ear and settled the covers over her as she already started to doze off.

"Goodnight, sweetheart…" he whispered.

"Great programme, that…" she murmured sleepily, just on the edge of falling fully asleep.

"Yes, now, goodnight…" Jeremy said, placing a chaste kiss to her forehead and heading towards the doorway.

Erik was reluctant to leave her but Jeremy ushered him out of the room, closing the door quietly behind them.

"It's alright, Erik… she'll be fine… I expect it's just the flu or perhaps a bug. Come… let's let her sleep…" Jeremy said, squeezing his shoulder gently.

Erik spared one final worried glance towards her door and followed Jeremy out, back to St. Patrick's. He wondered, as they walked away in the darkness, why he could do nothing but hurt her…

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, October 2005

There'll be some drama coming up in Chapter 13… ooh, I can't wait. _Rubs hands together while grinning unnervingly…_ And, for that matter, look out for some real drama around Chapters 29-31, though those numbers are not set in stone yet, but I do already have them written.


	12. Chapter 11: Tears Such as Angels Weep

**Et Velle Et Perficere**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own POTO… but I do own Jeremy and Lucy. Title is a nod a Milton. There's a line from Bacon, Orwell and Shakespeare… And the speech the headmaster starts is an actual speech _my_ headmaster gave and it was met with the same reaction, I can tell you. Mmm, HP sauce…

Please read and review…

**Chapter 11: Tears Such as Angels Weep…**

"Penny for them…" Christine said to Erik as he sat by her bed, engrossed in thought. It was the next morning and Christine was still lying in bed holding the hot water bottle, which Jeremy had brought her earlier, to her stomach. Erik had come to see her a while later and they had been talking until he had fallen into a sort of daydream.

He looked back at her and sighed softly. "Oh, nothing… don't concern yourself with me… Anyway, how are you feeling now?"

"Better…" she said. "I'll get up and get dressed in a few minutes and we can go to Mass."

"I don't think you should get up today," he said.

"Nonsense," Jeremy said teasingly from the doorway. "My little Blue Eyes is a fighter…" He came in carrying a tray with a single plate and cup on it. "I brought you one of your favourites… One cheese and onion crisp sandwich with HP sauce on soft white bread with only the top and bottom crusts cut off… and a cup of tea – one and a _half_ sugars, and just enough milk to make it the colour of peanut-butter…"

Christine beamed up at him and sat up to take the tray. "Thank you, sir…" She looked down at the plate and then back at Jeremy as he sat down on the side of the bed. "You said there was only _one_ sandwich…"

"Only one for _you_," he clarified, "and one for me…"

Erik wondered when _he_ would know all her favourite things and be as comfortable expressing himself around her as her surrogate father here was… "You have some strange eating habits, Angel."

"They're only strange to you…" Christine smiled as she and Jeremy tucked into their respective sandwiches.

"I would have brought you something, Erik," Jeremy said, "but I didn't know you were here… I suppose I should have guessed."

"What do you mean?" Erik asked defensively.

"He didn't mean anything by it…" Christine said, placing a hand on his arm to calm him down… it appeared to do the trick and he said little else until after Mass…

* * *

Christine was walking slightly less steadily than usual, clutching Erik's forearm in her hand as they headed back towards her room. She was bent ever so slightly forward with her free hand on her stomach and it bothered him greatly that he could do little to ease her discomfort. He had never been around someone he loved – yes, _loved_, he knew that now – when they were ill and he was unsure of how to soothe her… not, of course, that he would admit to loving very many people – perhaps Christine's own parents, yes, and definitely her… but no one else. 

"Erik… I've never asked you this before because I know I have no right to know… you don't have to tell me, at all… but, I was wondering if you were Catholic, or not…"

Erik sighed… he certainly did not want to be having that conversation. "I was raised Roman Catholic, yes…"

"But… are you still…?"

"It were better to have no opinion of God at all, than such an opinion as is unworthy of Him…" he said ambiguously.

"Erik…?"

He sighed again and thought for a long moment. "I suppose you could say I'm an embittered atheist… the sort of atheist who does not so much disbelieve in God as personally dislike Him."

And that, Christine realised, was the most she would get out of him on the subject today.

* * *

Christine was off school for the next few days and Erik had found it absolutely awful without her. His concentration in the classes was negligible and he only did the bare minimum of what was asked of him – no more and no less… Things seemed to drag much more when Christine wasn't there… he felt as though half of him were gone without her next to him… that he was only whole when they were together. It was an odd feeling for a seventeen-year-old to have… but it was no less real because of that. 

Eventually, on Wednesday afternoon, Christine had felt well enough to start doing things again. Wednesday was the night that the choir practised together in the chapel and she had decided that she would try to go, even if she couldn't take part in the singing that night. When Erik had found her getting ready, he had been reluctant to let her go… but, he realised, it was not his place to _let_ her do anything. However, the thought of singing in a choir had intrigued him and he had decided to tag along.

It was only later in Christine's room when he realised what a good idea that had been…

"You were amazing, Erik," Christine smiled. "I have never heard a more remarkable voice…"

"I have, Angel… and it belongs to you."

Christine shook her head briefly. "No… you're wrong. I am not a patch on you… you are truly the angel among us."

Erik stepped closer to her and placed his hand in her lovely hair. "You have no idea what it means to me that you would say, even believe, such a thing… however wrong you are," he said softly. "We could spend the rest of our lives having this conversation… and I will not be swayed. I look between us and I find _myself_ lacking…"

"How can you say that? How can you even _think_ it?"

"Only pointing out the bleeding obvious, my dear," he muttered as he looked at her.

"_My God_," Christine bit out, irritated. "Why don't you just stop being so negative…? Why don't you ever listen to a word I say about you…? Why don't you… Why don't you cheer up, for Christ's sake? It's like you _want_ people to hate you…"

"I tend to find they need no help with that…"

"You're doing it, _again_…" she shouted. Erik had never seen her so angry before… and it disturbed him that he was enjoying watching her so impassioned.

"What your poor mother must suffer," Christine said without thinking, "I had rather bear with you than bear you…"

Erik recoiled in agony and Christine was horrified at what she had just said. "A sentiment my mother shares, it would seem… though she didn't do much bearing _with_ me either," he said self-pityingly.

"Erik, I am so sorry… what I said, I said out of anger… none of it was meant…"

"Though, no less true… what you might call a rather large Freudian slip," he mused sadly.

Christine couldn't help noticing that he wasn't smiling anymore and that the world was already the poorer because of it. She had hurt him terribly and she had no idea what to do to rectify it. "Oh, my poor, _poor_, Erik," Christine sobbed as she watched the silent tears fall down his cheek. "What a cruel and heartless creature I am to have hurt you so…" She fell to her knees before him and brought him down with her, removing his mask, much to his horror, as she pulled him closer. "Tears such as angels weep…" she whispered, placing her palms on his cheeks so that she could wipe away his tears with her thumbs.

When he stopped crying, she pulled him forward into a desperate hug and stroked his back. "What I said was untrue, Erik… you must realise that there is no _bearing_ with you… every moment with you is precious and priceless… and I wish I could absorb all your pain, myself, so that you would never have to weep, again."

"You have a tender heart, my Angel," he whispered into her hair. "I know you did not mean to hurt me… as if you could ever mean to cause pain to anyone…"

Several long, intensely silent moments passed before Erik could find the words to speak again even though his voice was hoarse as the result of his crying. "I know that this is perhaps not the right time to ask you… but I am aware that Prize-Giving is in a couple of weeks and I was wondering if you would let me accompany you there…"

"I'm honoured that you still think enough of me to _want_ to go with me," she said, pulling back to look into his poor, wretched face.

"I think _everything_ of you…" he said resolutely.

* * *

And so, a couple of weeks later, Erik and Christine were sitting beside each other in the grand hall, watching the three-hour Prize-Giving service. They were rather bored even though Christine had won the prize for every subject she was doing – the Music cup, the English cup, the Art cup and even the Drama shield. Erik was extremely proud of her… but now that there was no possibility of either of them getting anything else, they were both quite restless. 

"When NASA first started sending astronauts up into space," their headmaster said, starting another one of his speeches, "they quickly discovered that the average ball-point pen would not work in zero gravity. To combat this problem, NASA scientists spent a decade and $12 billion developing a pen that writes in zero gravity, upside down, on almost any surface including glass with its own light for writing in total darkness, and at temperatures ranging from below freezing to over 300˚C… in short, in any conceivable situation. The perfect pen, in fact… whereas, the Russians… used a pencil…" Nervous laughter ensued…

Christine turned to Erik. "Now, are you so sure you made the right decision when you asked to come with me, Erik?" she whispered into his ear.

"Perhaps, I should have thought about it more thoroughly," he conceded.

"Psst," they heard coming from the previously locked door to their right. They both turned to see Jeremy bending down, the door open just enough to allow him to see them. "Erik, Christine… you coming, or what?"

Needing no second invitation, the pair of them gathered her prizes and fled through the door which Jeremy locked again behind them.

"Wow," he said, "you made a killing, didn't you?"

"She certainly did," Erik agreed happily.

"Well, come on, Blue Eyes, Erik… there's someone who wishes to see the two of you in the drawing room."

"Someone wishes to see _both_ of us…" Christine said, doubtful as they walked along the corridor to the main part of the building. "Who, exactly?"

"I believe she said her name was Lucy and that she was a social worker…"

Erik immediately became stiff… was he being sent back? Had she come to tell him he was no longer wanted by the Daaés? That he was going to have to live in that hell-hole again… somehow, he did not think he could survive that now that he had tasted Heaven in all its glory.

"This is just a follow-up visit, Erik," Lucy reassured when the three of them were seated at the large table in the drawing room. "It's your first follow-up, I believe… but don't worry… it's a good thing that you've been with the Daaés long enough to require one and that you've been placed happily now for the last couple of months. So, is everything going alright?"

Erik was sitting in his chair dejectedly, just waiting to be told that his time with Christine was to come to an end. He nodded vaguely as he could not find the words to answer her.

"And you, Christine?" Lucy asked. "How do you feel about having Erik living with you and going to school with you?"

"Well, I'm used to my parents fostering children… but, Erik is by far the most interesting." She winked at him. "I wouldn't be without him," she said soberly again to Lucy.

Erik was touched so by what she had said, that he reached under the table to clasp their hands together.

"And you're happy with the situation as it stands?" Lucy asked them both.

They shared a brief look and then nodded together as she took notes. "Well, everything seems in order… I'll let you get back to what you were doing and I'll give you another follow-up in another couple of months… Is there anything either of you want to say before I go?"

Neither of them said anything as Lucy packed up her folders and stood to leave. "Well," she said as she paused before the door, "I'm glad you've found the right family this time, Erik."

The two of them watched her leave before Erik turned to Christine and looked straight into her eyes. "If she had been talking to you alone, would you have told her you wanted rid of me?" he asked.

"I want rid of you no more than I could let go of my heart…" she said seriously. "And we have _got_ to work on your self-confidence."

Erik watched as she pulled him out of the chair by the hand she still held and they made to walk back to the grand hall. However, Jeremy met them in the corridor as they came out of the drawing room and stopped them before they could go back to the Prize-Giving.

"Now that you're out, you don't have to go back in, you know… what I would suggest is… _run for the hills_…" he laughed and walked off back to the staffroom with his cup of tea.

"What should we do?" Christine asked.

He thought for a moment. "If everyone is in the grand hall then there is no one in the church… come, let us act out _Faust_, my sweet… let us sell our souls – just for a _song_!"

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, October 2005


	13. Chapter 12: Amazing What One Can Do

**Et Velle Et Perficere**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own POTO… but I do own Jeremy, Laura and Croft Manor.

Please read and review…

**Chapter 12: It is Amazing What One Can Bring Oneself to Do…**

Time seemed to pass by without much ado now that Erik and Christine had gotten into somewhat of a routine and suddenly it was the last week in October and, therefore, the Halloween holidays… They had a week and a half at home in Croft Manor to enjoy before going back to school at the start of November and they couldn't wait. Presently, they were waiting at the end of the short queue to load their suitcases into the side compartment of the coach when Jeremy came running up to them.

"Your father phoned me," he said – Michael and Jeremy had gotten on so well that they'd swapped their private numbers and often spoke several times a week… "I'm joining you towards the end of the week… for the Halloween weekend. So, I am returning the favour… instead of sitting for the next half day in a stuffy coach with a bunch of noisy teenagers… no offence… stopping at all of their houses and listening to some rubbish on the radio… you can sit in my air-conditioned BMW and I'll even let you pick the CD we listen to. Here…" he said, handing Christine his car keys, "you know which one it is… go put your suitcases in the boot and I'll sign you off of the register in the office so people know where you are."

Erik and Christine waited in the car for Jeremy to return, finding this little twist of fate to be very beneficial indeed. They had put their suitcases away and sat together in the back, Christine leaning forward to change the CD track to the _Pearl Fishers Duet_. It wasn't long thereafter that Jeremy returned and they headed off away from the school as an angry young man watched them go…

On the bus Christine and Erik had just given up in favour of Jeremy's car, Raoul sat stewing in one of the window-seats. He couldn't believe that Christine was spending so much time with that plonker willingly and so little time with _him_. Before the summer holidays, they had been so close and he mourned their lost contact… but, more than that, he was fuming at the pair of them – Erik, because he had taken Christine's attention away from him, and Christine, because she had allowed it to happen without even caring…

He was still seething when Carlotta, who had seen his mood and who it was directed at, slid into the seat next to him. She smiled wickedly as she now knew she could persuade Raoul, in his anger, to help her get revenge upon Christine… of course, he would think he was getting it upon Erik and that would make it all the sweeter…

Carlotta was used to getting her own way and had not been best pleased when Erik had, without fail, turned her down at every chance. She would not _let_ him do it again…

"I'll cut right to the chase, Raoul," she said. "I don't like all the attention Erik gives Christine and I _know_ that you don't either… so it's in our favour if we work together to get them apart."

"What were you planning?" Raoul asked sceptically as he stared out of the window in boredom.

"Well, there's not much we can do until after we get back here when the holidays are over… but then… there's Guy Fawkes Night," she said excitedly. "With all the fireworks and commotion going on, it'll be quite easy to get them apart… and then, I'll take care of Erik and you can take care of Christine." She discretely handed him a small bag with some kind of white powder in it.

He was horrified… "What the hell is this?" he hissed. "What do you take me for?"

"Don't get all self-righteous on me now… it isn't for _that_… it won't knock her out – it'll just make her a little more pliant so that you can get her away from Erik without complaint. I'll put some in Erik's drink and you can put some in Christine's… one or the other of them will end up in a rather misconstruing position with one or the other of us and then… we'll make bloody sure the other sees it. That'll split them up… After that… it's up to you what you do with Christine…" She smiled as she thought about that.

* * *

Just under four hours later, Erik was sitting in Heaven… well, what passed for Heaven, anyway… 

Christine was asleep, her head resting on his shoulder with her arms unintentionally wrapped around his waist. He was leaning his head against hers and was revelling in the smell of her beautiful hair.

Every few minutes, Jeremy looked at them in the rear-view mirror… he thought they made a very good couple and he wondered when they would realise that themselves. Erik always took such care of Christine and it was obvious that he was attracted to her… she was also the only one who could calm him down and who he treated with extreme tenderness compared to the unguarded hostility everyone else got. And Christine spent all her free time with him… obviously she cared a great deal for him too.

Eventually, they reached Christine's home and Erik had the – he felt – _enviable _task of lifting the delicate angel sleeping against him into his arms and inside the house. She was still incredibly light and he could feel the slight worry at the back of his mind start to worm its way into his conscious thoughts. But he decided he was just fussing and so, refused to think further on it.

He bypassed Michael and Sarah without a word and proceeded to Christine's room with his precious burden cradled in his arms, laying her down upon her bed. He stroked his hand tenderly across her forehead as he thought about the week ahead he could look forward to them having together.

In fact, Erik rather liked Halloween… it was the one time of year he didn't feel like he was a completely hideous beast – he could be normal for that one day and nobody would ever know that the mask was _not_ a costume. He had a few things he had planned to do with Christine over that holiday and he hoped she would like them. Firstly, he would ask her to go to the fireworks with him on Guy Fawkes Night and then – if she accepted – he would give her the dress he had bought her as a present. He didn't know what he'd do if she were to turn him down… the thought made himpositively sick and tense with nerves.

* * *

Christine was pleasantly surprised when swiftly, in the early evening of the 31st, she found herself with something to do. As her parents had gone out for the evening, she had been asked to take out the young childof one of their colleagues.Currently, in fact, she wasjust puttingthe finishing touches onto her costume. She was going as a vampire and she thought she looked rather suited to it withthe long flowing black dress, sharp fangs,white skin, blood-red lips and big dark eyes. Her lovely, curly hair was dark enough in the night to look black so she did not have to use dye… and if she did think so herself, she thought she had done a rather good job of it. 

Erik was stunned… he so badly wanted to kiss those red lips and he found himself disturbingly jealous of the little girl dressed as a pixie that she so easily lifted into her arms and bestowed upon her forehead a delicate kiss. He made a sudden decision as she said her goodbyes to him and left through the front door that he would not be parted from her tonight…

He rushed up to her and turned her around so that he could spend just a moment looking at her. She was _so_ beautiful and he had _never_ craved anything more than he did her… _especially_ this night. She looked at him as though he were some kind of seasoned nutter and watched warily as he placed one of his large hands on the skin between her neck and the tops of her breasts, wanting to feel her heartbeat pulsing gently against his palm. She didn't move either as he slid his hand gently over all of her soft exposed flesh, bringing a hand up to her face to tilt her head back so that he could look into her striking kohl-rimmed eyes. He leaned forward to bring their lips together but was interrupted at once when he finally noticed the little pixie Christine was still clutching in her arms. He immediately withdrew from her…

"I'm coming with you," he stated.

"What?"

"It is far too dark and too late for a little girl and a beautiful young woman to be out alone… remember, this is the night freaks can wander amongst the good. I'm coming with you," he said again, taking her free arm and walking down the drive with her, leaving no room for complaint.

After a while, Christine put Laura down so that she could walk by herself but kept their hands joined… just as her other was joined with Erik's. Erik felt oddly like he and Christine were father and mother to the child walking with them – it was a strange thought to him… but not an entirely unwelcome one. Whenever they went to the houses to get sweets, Erik hung back to watch as people gave the darling young woman and the little child such sincere smiles and then bestowed upon them that for which they had come.

He was fascinated by how motherly Christine acted towards her young charge… she was so loving and caring towards the child even though she was not her own. He found himself thinking that she would make a wonderful mother one day and that he would like to be around when she became one… hopefully playing an active role in making her one rather than just watching from a distance…

Christine and Laura seemed to be doing well… both of them had almost filled their bags as all of the people in the street seemed to be very generous and liked the children coming around…

Most of them anyway…

"Trick or treat?" Laura squealed happily to the man who opened the door.

He, however, was more interested in the young beauty holding her hand…

"Tell me, darling, how much would I have to pay for one of _your_ tricks… _that_ would certainly be a treat, I can tell you… and _I'd_ enjoy it too," he said to Christine, laughing at his own joke.

She was appalled and pulled Laura back, moving quickly down his drive towards the pavement and the large row of trees which she knew Erik would be standing on the other side of. However, the man would not be turned down so easily and he caught hold of her shoulder, turning her back towards him. That did not go down well with Erik…

"Hey, not so fast… what's the rush, hmm? I can show you a good time, doll," the man said, unaware that a livid Erik was approaching him silently from behind. The man was only vaguely more aware as Erik's hands turned him around and grasped tightly to his neck.

Christine immediately spun away from them with Laura and held her so that she could not see what was happening as Erik gradually tightened his hands in anger, lowering the man to the ground as he choked him. "The minute you developed your sick intentions towards my angel, you made a bloody grave mistake," Erik spat. "And now… you are going to find out what it means to regret…"

It was many minutes later when Erik had potentially done the man a great deal of damage that Christine finally recovered herself enough to plead with Erik to stop. "Please, Erik, let's just go… I can't let Laura see this."

"He had every intention of using you for his own pleasure… whether or not _you_ agreed to that was purely trivial to him. And you were never his to touch… you are _mine_ and _no one else's!_" Erik hissed.

Christine could see that he seemed to be in some sort of fury-induced trance as he hurt the man more and so she moved over to him warily, kneeling down uneasily next to them. She placed her free hand against his lower chest andstroked soothingly. "Yes, I'm _yours_," she whispered, getting his attention. "And I want you to take me back home where _we_ can be together…" She moved her hand up and grasped his chin, pulling him into a desperate kiss to try to convince him. When she pulled back, he looked into her eyes briefly before moving to taste her again as he let go of the now unconscious bastard lying in front of them in his own front garden. When Christine was satisfied that she had persuaded him enough to take them home, she pulled back again and stood up with him.

Thankfully, it did not take them long to get home and Christine stopped them just before they went back in. "How could you do that, Erik?" she asked. "You were practically unaware of what you were doing…"

"It is amazing what one can do when one could never look at their face in the mirror, anyway…" he sighed. "I would do _anything_ to protect my angel… _never_ underestimate me." And he walked passed her into the house, pulling her along by the hand behind him.

* * *

Much later as Erik and Christine sat in the lounge quietly, thinking about having to go back to school the next day, Erik remembered what he had been meaning to ask Christine… the whole fiasco with the man who had gotten too _friendly_ with his angel had made it slip his mind. 

"Christine?" he said as he hesitantly moved towards her. "Guy Fawkes Night is on Saturday… I know that the school will be having fireworks and things… If you are not going with anyone else… perhaps you would go with me…"

Christine looked up at him from the chair she was sitting in… he was positively the opposite of the person he'd been when that man had grabbed her… he was no less than timid now. "I would love to go with you, Erik," she said honestly.

He seemed relieved as he rushed away for no apparent reason, returning moments later with a box in hand. "This is for you," he said, placing it in her lap as he knelt at her feet.

She opened the box unhurriedly and removed the top layer of tissue paper to find a beautiful dress beneath. It was a wonderful shade of blue that he had instantly thought she would look marvellous in and she, herself, thought it was stunning as she stood up with it, the box falling unheeded to the floor as she pressed it against herself. "Oh, Erik, it's gorgeous…"

He was pleased that she liked it and even more pleased that she would be wearing it for him in less than a week. Hopefully, he thought, it would be the right time to initiate a kiss with her then…

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, October 2005

So, an in-between chapter then which I'm not _terribly_ happy with… but do not worry for there is more plot in the next one.


	14. Chapter 13: Mr and Mrs Blue Eyes

**Et Velle Et Perficere**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own POTO or lovely Jaffa cakes… but I do own Jeremy. Please read and review…

**Chapter 13: Mr. and Mrs. Blue Eyes…**

"You are so beautiful…" Erik whispered to Christine as they stood in the courtyard of St. Joseph's with everyone else, waiting for the Guy Fawkes celebrations to start. A lot of the part-time boarders and day students had come back that Saturday to join in, so it was rather crowded… but Erik was not unhappy as it was dark now and they blended in amongst the rest of people quite easily. They were just waiting for one of the caretakers to start the bonfire and then they would all go over to the Mac – a large tarmac pitch across from St. Joe's – to watch as they burned the Guy and started the fireworks.

Very soon, the large bonfire was completely consumed in flame and everyone was allowed onto the Mac a safe distance away. The upper-sixths had been each given a drink for helping make the Guy that now sat slightly away from the bonfire, wearing an old P.E. uniform and propped against a sign saying 'Penny for the Guy'. They were all aware that they'd only be getting one though, so nobody was drinking theirs too quickly… something which Carlotta and Raoul were particularly pleased about as they would not be putting their plan into action until after most of the celebrations had finished.

Raoul was rather reluctant to go along with what Carlotta had suggested but he wanted to get Christine away from that nutter before he did something to hurt her. He was on edge the whole time as everyone else enjoyed the fireworks… even Carlotta seemed not to be fazed by the fact that she would soon be responsible for spiking someone's drink… Raoul could not help being jittery, though, as he never had any intention of drugging a woman and he was scared he would do her some sort of harm. Raoul was not a bad man, after all… he was just _concerned_.

Not three feet in front of him, Erik had his arm around Christine's back as they watched a particularly bright, pink Catherine wheel spinning around. They were blissfully unaware that two of their fellow classmates had been conspiring against them and were just waiting for the right time to put their relatively simple plan into action. Both Christine and Erik could think of little else than the wonderful night they were sharing together… and their mutual hope that they might have more like it. He pulled her closer to him gently, resting her head on his chest, and placed his discarded coat over her shoulders as his arms moved up around her waist… they were perfectly happy as they were.

A long while later, Erik slowly started to lead Christine away from the noisy crowd of people watching the burning of the Guy, as he wished for them to have some time alone. They slipped, unnoticed, away from the throng and back towards the deserted courtyard of St. Joseph's where they could still see the fireworks but remain unseen, themselves.

"What's this?" Christine asked, looking around, confused.

"Shh," he whispered, pressing his index finger over her lips to quiet her. "I only wish to spend some time with my angel without three hundred other people eavesdropping on our conversation…" He smiled but grew more serious again. "I think there's something we need to discuss…"

"Have I done something wrong?" she asked timidly.

"Why should you think you've done something wrong?"

"Invariably, when someone says that 'we need to talk', it means that the other person has done something wrong… or that you're dumping me – but we aren't even going out…" she trailed off.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about…"

Christine looked suddenly worried and that, in itself, perplexed Erik enough to make him hesitate. "I've upset you haven't I?" Christine asked him with tears in her eyes. "I've been making you uncomfortable with all the time I spend with you… with our closeness. I promise I'll stop, Erik… I had no idea I was making you feel like that…"

As the first tear fell suddenly down her cheek, Erik drew forward and brought their lips together fiercely, backing her into one of the courtyard walls. "Tell me you don't mean that…" he said when they parted. "Tell me you don't really believe that… I _never_ want our _intimacy_ to end. In fact…" he paused, needing to kiss her again as he took notice of her perfect, slightly swollen, lips. "In fact… I would like it to _develop_."

"Develop?"

"Mmm…" He nipped her lips again, totally obsessed with the taste of her. "Yes… I want us to start a proper relationship, Christine. Neither of us is attached and _I_ certainly do not want to be with anyone else. We can't seem to keep our lips apart for long, either…"

"You want to go out with _me_?"

"What do you find so hard to believe about that?" he asked.

"I just… I didn't think you'd want _me_…" she whispered, lowering her gaze.

He immediately lifted her chin up again and added another kiss to their total. "Where did you get such a silly idea as that from…? We spend all of our time together – you said it yourself… I can't seem to stop myself from kissing you… I hold you all the time… and I tell you things I've never told anyone… You can't possibly think I'd do those things with just anyone… you must know you're special – _perfect_, in fact – you must know… I _love_ you…"

"You _love_ me?" she asked, disbelieving.

"How could I _not_? I've loved you forever and more – I loved you before I met you and I will love you long after I have departed this world… I do not expect you to tell me the same… perhaps one day, when we have been together for years…" he said hopefully, getting a faraway look in his eyes. "Perhaps then, you will be able to look upon me in love… but I will not pressurise you."

How Christine longed to be able to tell Erik those words now as he had done for her… but she was not ready and she could not force herself. "Yes," she said, pressing a hand against his chest, "I want to have a relationship with you… I want us to be together." She found it oddly right that she had been able to accept Erik's 'proposal', if you will, for them to be together, when she had previously been putting Raoul off for months… It said so much of how right Erik was for her and she was glad. "But… are you sure this time? Every other time we've kissed, you've regretted it and run off…"

"I've never regretted any of our kisses – I apologise if my actions have led you to believe otherwise… I cherish every memory of you in my heart and I know I have some issues with my self-esteem and my anger… but I promise I will try to resolve them now that you have agreed to be with me. You cannot begin to understand how happy you have made me…"

After a short while of them just revelling in each other, Christine left Erik's embrace to stretch appealingly and walk back towards the huge gates out of St. Joseph's. "They'll wonder where we are…" she stated, holding her hand out for him. "Come on…"

* * *

"So, I'll be calling you Mr. Blue Eyes from now on, Erik…" Jeremy said, smiling. "To be honest, I didn't think it would take you quite this long to figure that out, though… in fact, I now owe Mr. Close twenty quid." 

"You _bet_ on us?" Christine asked crossly.

"I wouldn't exactly call it a bet… more of a flutter between some of the masters… totally harmless, I assure you."

"Jeremy Harper-Matthews… you _old_ berk, you're lucky I don't–"

"Steady on," he cut her off. "I had no idea you knew such language," he mocked, pretending to look appalled. "Oh, lighten up… why don't I make it up to you, hmm? I've been saving a box of Jaffa cakes just for you…" He placed his arm around her shoulders and led her off to St. Patrick's as Erik stood, contemplating what he was supposed to do, now, without her.

Carlotta and Raoul were standing amongst the crowd, watching as Erik and Christine were split up for the first time that evening…

"Come on… it's time we got this started," Carlotta said. "You go after Christine and Harper-Matthews and wait until you can get her on her own. Remember to put the whole lot in her drink and you can do what you like when she's drunk it… but first of all you have to make sure she sees me kissing Erik. So, give me about twenty minutes before you bring her back… then she's all yours _for good_."

Raoul contemplated one last moment of indecision before he went off towards the boarding houses in search of Christine. Carlotta, however, felt no such indecision as she walked up to Erik and touched the back of his shoulder. She was slightly shocked as he recoiled and turned upon her as though she were some kind of attacker… thinking about it, she supposed she _was_ really.

"What do you want, Miss Sinclair?" Erik asked, bored.

"Nothing more than your conversation's worth…"

"Ah… _conversation_… And yet, the price of mine is more than your wit – or lack thereof – can procure. Do you _enjoy_ being insulted?"

"By _you_…"

Erik was disgusted… what sort of sick creature was this girl who had been pursuing him for no other reason than he was not interested in her and, more importantly, was extremely interested in Christine. He was aware that Carlotta only wanted to hurt his love and he would not allow that to happen – he did not even find Carlotta bearable… she left his senses utterly debased. "Well then, I shan't deprive you…"

Just as he was about to say something more, Carlotta suddenly reached her hands up in front of him and laid them on his upper chest. Erik was so concerned with getting her to stop touching him that he did not notice as she slipped the powder right into his drink… He recoiled again in disgust and moved a safe distance away from her as he collected himself and started heading back to his room. All he wanted to do was lie down and wait for his angel to come and find him when she was done with Jeremy.

Carlotta, though, would not be left behind as she ran to catch up to him. "Where are you rushing off to?"

Erik turned his head to look at the woman who sickened him so. "You turn the atmosphere wild with currents of vitriol when you smile at the passing insects… I would appreciate it if you would keep your noxious depravity away from my person."

"Oh, Erik," she laughed, "you can be so funny when you joke like that…"

"I'm not joking… and if you don't remove yourself from my presence, I'll make bloody sure you regret it."

"I know something about Christine that will interest you," she called out suddenly.

That caught Erik's attention and he stopped in his tracks. Much as he knew it would all be lies… he could not prevent his curiosity from stilling his movements. "Tell me…" he said as he downed his drink in one and placed the glass on the low wall next to him.

* * *

Meanwhile, Christine had just come out of the boys' halls with her drink in one hand and a half-eaten packet of Jaffa cakes in the other, when she turned the corner and bumped straight into Raoul. So caught up in trying not to spill her drink or drop the box was she, that she did not even notice when Raoul took the opportunity to spike her drink. 

"Oh, Raoul, I am so sorry," she laughed, "I almost got this all over you…"

"I'm sorry… please, don't think anything of it… no harm done," he replied, brushing his coat off as though to prove it. Then, seeing how sweet and kind she was, as though he could somehow forget, he tried to take back what he had already done, reaching his hand out to try to get her glass off of her.

"Oh, here," she said, noticing that he had dropped his lapel pin. She was about to pick it up but both of her hands were full so she quickly drank the last of her drink to free up one of her hands. But when she bent over to pick up the shiny object, she felt extremely light-headed…

"Raoul, I think I drank that too quickly… I'm not used to it," she explained as he helped keep her steady.

He was suddenly very worried… why had he listened to Carlotta? Why? This wasn't like him at all – he didn't do this sort of thing – certainly not to Christine. "Why don't I take you back to your room… you'll feel better once you've rested."

"Raoul… Raoul, this isn't right," she cried, suddenly worried. She started trying to walk back into St. Patrick's but was having some difficulty with her legs. "This doesn't feel right… I'm… It's too fast to be the drink itself… I think someone must've put something in my drink, Raoul."

Raoul realised now that Carlotta had lied when she'd said that the drug would not knock Christine out and that it would only make her a bit more pliant. He felt stupid to have believed her in the first place and hoped to God that it would not have any drastic effects on Christine. He grabbed hold of her to keep her up and helped her inside, not before hurriedly picking up his lapel pin, though. "Alright, I'll take you to my room," he told her.

"No… no…" she mumbled, struggling against him. "Let… go."

As he tried to pull her towards the lift, regardless, she fought him to the best of her ability and succeeded in sending him backwards on to his rear end on the floor. She ended up stumbling into the lift similarly, falling just as the doors closed behind her and separated her from Raoul. She immediately struggled to lift herself enough to hit the button for the top floor so that Raoul would not be able to open the doors again from the other side. Feeling progressively groggier, she could not get up and she found herself strangely worried over the now broken strap on the dress Erik had given her.

She realised vaguely that she could not even _move_ her legs anymore… but she was far too dazed to really take that information in. And she was only distantly aware of seeing the lift doors open again and a tall blurry figure standing above her…

* * *

"What have you _done_?" Erik hissed at Carlotta as his knees started to give out beneath him. He had absolutely no idea what she could have done to him but he knew it must have been her from the way she was smirking at his sudden loss of awareness. 

He was no longer resisting as she placed her hands on his chest and pressed herself up against him. He couldn't think straight and had to focus intensely just to stay conscious. It was much to her liking that he had become so compliant so quickly and she wondered how long it'd be until Raoul showed up with Christine in tow. She couldn't wait to see her face when she saw Erik with her…

He had just enough presence of mind left to stagger blindly away from her as she tried to get him to be still. Thankfully for him, though, he had been just round the back entrance of St. Patrick's at the time… he was not yet terribly aware of the building he entered but was just following the lights and the warmth out of instinct. Even half out of his skull on some kind of drugs that she had put in his drink, he was still too strong for her to be able to detain him… She tried desperately to stop him from getting away – after all, if he were to separate himself from her then she would not be able to use him to hurt Christine.

Just as she was pulling on his arm, managing little more than slowing him down as he distraughtly pulled himself along the banister and up the back stairs, Carlotta realised that her plan was falling to pieces and that she could not stop him from getting away from her. So, she tried to distance herself as much as she could from the situation, running back down the stairs and out of the building, towards the fireworks to try to get people to notice that she was there and, therefore, could not have been anywhere else.

Erik, meanwhile, was finding it even harder to pull himself up the stairs… but he found comfort in the fact that Carlotta had given up and that he now recognised the building he was in. He also took comfort from the thought of his angel's beautiful face… if she were still with Jeremy then perhaps he could see her again before the drugs took full effect and he passed out. Christine and Jeremy were the only two people in the whole school he would trust to be around in his current state and, out of instinct, he was hurrying his way towards the room at least one of them was sure to be in.

He was only distantly aware as he heard the sound of the lift doors opening and saw a tall blurry figure standing in the doorway just as he collapsed upon the top landing of the stairs in a dead faint…

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, October 2005


	15. Chapter 14: I Love Her

**Et Velle Et Perficere**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own POTO… but I do own Jeremy, Michael and Marcus Christie, though he's named after a former character in Eastenders.

Please read and review…

**Chapter 14: I Love Her and I Make No Excuses for that Fact…**

Jeremy was bewildered… he had just left his room to go back to the Mac to supervise the rest of the night when the lift doors had opened to reveal the prone figure of his lovely surrogate daughter. She was lying sprawled upon the floor of the lift, blinking rapidly at nothing, it would seem, and he could feel the panic coiling in his stomach start to rise as he noticed that her dress was torn…

He was overcome with an intense feeling of dread as he looked at her and rushed forward to pick her up. She was delicate… so light in his arms that he began to cry at the thought of what he could not help but believe had happened to her… and he cursed himself for not having been there to prevent it. He would never leave her side again if only she'd forgive him. He had the presence of mind to hit the emergency stop button before he left the lift – he was not sure if _whatever_ had happened had happened there… but he would make sure no one else used it in the meantime, just in case.

He carried her into his bedroom, laying her reverently upon the bed as she struggled to grasp onto the last remaining threads of consciousness, and he tried to make her comfortable as he picked up his private phone and dialled the emergency services for an ambulance and the police. Christine was completely unconscious now and there was no way he would leave her again… he would also not leave her with any other man as he had no idea who was responsible for her current state – better to offend them and keep her safe than for the alternative to happen. Therefore, he knew he was going to have to find one of the female teachers to, either, sit with Christine while he waited for the ambulance, or she would have to wait for the ambulance, herself… So, he made short work of phoning Mrs. Giry's mobile number as he knew she was not likely to be in St. Mary's while everyone else was outside. And those three rings were the longest of his life…

"Hello?"

"Ada, listen to me… it's Christine… she's unconscious… I think someone's drugged her… I think she's… I think she's been _raped_…" he said, unable to keep from crying and incapable of keeping his voice calm.

"Oh my God…" she breathed. "Where is she? Have you called an ambulance? The police…?"

"Of course, of _course_ I have… We're in my room – I need you to watch for the paramedics and the police… and show them up. Oh, and use the stairs – the lift's out of service…"

"She's in _your_ room?" Ada asked out of surprise, without thinking of what it had sounded like.

"What exactly are you suggesting, Mrs. Giry?" he spat. "For God's sake, will you just make sure the paramedics can find her…" He slammed the phone down in disgust and almost choked on a sob as he looked at Christine and contemplated phoning her parents.

In truth, he could only speculate over what had happened and, though the situation looked dire, he had no intention of worrying her parents more than necessary… but he cared too much about them all to lie through omission and he knew, if the situation were reversed, he would want to be told, however little they actually knew.

He picked the phone up again and took in a deep, calming breath before dialling the Daaés number. He hoped they were not out somewhere…

Michael answered after a few tediously crawling seconds… "Hello?"

"Michael… I…"

"Jeremy, what is it?" Michael asked, worriedly. His friend was an incredibly easy-going sort of man and it was not like him to not be able to find his words… something which completely unnerved Michael as his mind was suddenly filled with all the possibilities any parent would dream up upon receiving a phone call late in the evening from their child's boarding school teacher.

Jeremy moved over to sit on the bed beside the unconscious young woman whose father he was talking – _trying_ – to talk to. He didn't know what to say… "I… Michael, it's Christine… she's unconscious… I think she's been drugged." When he heard nothing but silence on the other end of the line, he tried to think of something else to say that might help… but could come up with little constructive. "I've called an ambulance… they'll probably take her to hospital… I think you should be there."

Michael suddenly snapped out of the trance he had fallen into when Jeremy had told him what was happening to his daughter, and when he spoke, he found that his voice was uncomfortably choked with an emotion he really did not want to be hearing. "I'm coming… I'll be there as soon as I can. Oh, and Jeremy…?"

"Yes?"

"It'll be a few hours until we get there… look after her, will you? I trust you…"

"Of course, I will, Michael… I'll keep her safe, I swear."

After they had hung up, Jeremy wondered where Erik had gotten to – surely he would want to know what had happened… He tried calling his number but found that he got no answer – now he was worried about him too – it was not like Erik to be unreachable when it came to him or Christine. But what could he do – Christine was his main priority now and he would not leave her unattended.

* * *

Ada Giry met the paramedics at the front gates, directing them to the left fork in the road and running to catch up as they parked outside St. Patrick's. She tried to explain to them everything Jeremy had said over the phone and led them hastily to the stairs round the back, up to the top floor. What she saw on the top landing, however, almost made her faint… 

"Do you know him?" one of the paramedics asked as they both knelt down next to the unconscious figure sprawled on the floor to check his vital signs.

"Yes," she gasped, "that's Erik… but Jeremy didn't mention him… he was talking about Christine."

One of the paramedics nodded to the other to go and check on the unconscious girl this woman was talking about as the first made sure the young man in front of him did not have any life-threatening injuries.

Ada led the second paramedic quickly towards Jeremy's room and watched almost frantically as he looked over the young girl lying on the bed. Jeremy was looking on in a similar fashion as the paramedic spoke to them both… he could only vaguely make out what he was saying, however.

"She'll have to be taken to hospital," the paramedic said eventually, satisfied that she was in a stable condition, "so that they can do some tests and keep an eye on her. Which of you is responsible for her?"

"I am," Jeremy said immediately. "Her father has entrusted her into my care."

"Well, you can come in the ambulance with us if you want but we will have to take Christine and Erik in together…"

"Erik?"

"Yes," Ada said, explaining to him what had happened as they had come up the stairs.

"I don't believe it… Michael and Sarah trusted me to look after them and I've made both of them need the care of a hospital. Can you stay here and wait for the police, Ada? I can't leave the two of them now… not when they need me. Oh, and tell them that I found her in the lift…" He explained everything as he could remember it to her while the paramedics did what they could and came back for Christine after they'd gotten Erik into the ambulance.

As Jeremy sat in the back of the ambulance watching his two charges being attended to by the paramedic, he couldn't help clinging to the hope that, since both Christine _and_ Erik appeared to have been drugged, that perhaps Christine had not been _attacked_…

* * *

A crowd had gathered around the police cars outside St. Patrick's and Ada watched them as they joked about what could have happened. She, however, did not think it was anything to joke about and she tried her very best to ignore them as she stood telling the policeman she was talking to exactly what had happened since she had become involved… not that she could tell him much, considering how little she actually knew of the situation. 

"Can you think of any reason someone might have to wish to hurt either Miss Daaé or Mr. Phelps-Jones?" the policeman asked.

She shook her head. "No… I… Christine is such a lovely girl… everybody – well, _most_ everybody – likes her and Erik keeps much to himself… apart from his attachment to Christine, of course…"

"Sorry… you said that _most_ everybody likes her… who are you excluding?"

"Well, Carlotta Sinclair and Christine have never much gotten on…"

"Oh? And why is that?" he asked.

"It has stemmed from the fact that Christine keeps getting the lead in the school productions… but their intense dislike of each other surely would not lead to this…" Ada said disbelievingly as she shook her head at the notion.

"I have seen stranger things… And what about Mr. Phelps-Jones…? Does he have any enemies, would you say?"

"Well, not Carlotta, I don't believe… she was quite taken with Erik, I think… However, he has always been much closer to Christine and only Christine… which, I suppose, is a reason why he and Raoul de Chagny have never liked each other… I don't know if I would call them enemies, as such – after all, Erik does not make friends very easily anyway… But Raoul was very jealous of Erik – he wanted to make Christine his girlfriend… Since she and Erik met, though, they have gotten very close… Still, Raoul's such a nice lad – he'd never hurt anyone…"

"Well, thank you, madam," the policeman said, closing his notepad. "That'll be all for now but we will need you to come down to the police station tomorrow to give us a formal statement…" He tipped his hat to her and walked over to join his colleagues in the building.

"Mum, Mum, what happened?" Meg called as she rushed over to her mother's side.

"Calm down, Meghan… I'll tell you everything I know but not now," she said walking away from the building and towards St. Mary's. She would leave the other teachers to send the students home and to set both of St. Patrick's two remaining full-time boarders into temporary rooms in St. Mary's. She could not be dealing with that right at the moment…

"But, Mum…"

"_No_, Meg…" she said firmly, without looking back.

* * *

Later, in the family room of the hospital, Jeremy was pacing furiously as a doctor came in to speak to him. "Mr. Phelps-Jones?" he asked. 

"No…" Jeremy shook his head, unable to find enough words to enlighten the man as to his true identity.

The grey-haired doctor looked confusedly down at the notes in his arms again. "Mr. Daaé?" he tried without success.

"No… no, I'm Jeremy Harper-Matthews… I'm Christine and Erik's teacher. During term time, I am responsible for them and their father has entrusted them into my care, so you may tell me anything about them without worry…"

"Well," the doctor said, urging him to sit and then sitting in one of the chairs in front of him. "I'm Marcus Christie – a consultant here at the hospital… Christine and Erik will be fine, I assure you… Actually, quite a large quantity of gammahydroxybutyrate – more commonly known as GHB – was found in both of their systems… It is a powerful and rapidly acting central nervous system depressant which caused them both to become unconscious but should not leave them with any ongoing damage. And I am satisfied that there is no evidence of an actual rape. We cannot honestly predict when they will be waking up as different people react differently to different substances. Ordinarily, though, this particular drug only stays in the system for up to eight hours. But you are welcome to sit with them if you'd like…"

"Thank you," Jeremy breathed, relieved beyond words, as he followed the doctor out of the waiting room and towards the cubicles.

"Have their parents been informed?"

"Yes," Jeremy answered, his attention more focused on seeing his two charges again.

When they got to Erik he was already awake – the ratio of the amount of the drugs to someone of his height and weight meant that it had a much weaker effect on him than it had on Christine, who was considerably smaller. As soon as he was aware of their presence he asked where Christine was…

"She's in a different ward, Erik," the doctor said. "She needed more intensive care than you did, I'm afraid. You can see her later…"

"She's in a ward? Intensive care…? What happened to her?" He sat up in complete worry, ignoring the pain in his head, and stared at the two men for an answer.

"The same thing that happened to you, Erik… somebody put something in your drinks."

He didn't remember. It was scary – finding a big chunk of his memory just missing – but he was more concerned about his angel. Somebody had hurt her – the fact that they had hurt him too was just trivial – but somebody had truly hurt her and he was going to make bloody sure that they got what they deserved.

"Take me to her…"

"No, Erik, you need to rest," Mr. Christie said. "You can see her when you're better…"

"Either you show me where she is… or I will get up and find her, myself… one way or another I _will_ see her but this way will take less time and you might just get me to keep my drip in."

Mr. Christie conceded – he could quite imagine that this boy would do just as he said. He did not know much about Christine or Erik, but he could tell at least one thing… whatever could be said about Erik – it was clear that he loved Christine very much, in whatever way.

He led the young man and his teacher to one of the upstairs wards, showing them to the cubicle the young girl was in before heading off to see another patient.

Erik's heart broke at the sight of his beloved unconscious on a hospital bed with tubes up her nose and a drip in her perfect little hand. He delicately sat on the bed next to her and brushed a curl off of her forehead… she looked so peaceful and so still that he could almost believe that she had passed away in her sleep – if not for the almost imperceptible, but still present, rising and falling of her chest due to her continued breathing.

It occurred to him that he had never so blatantly stared at her chest before and he could not control himself as he burst out laughing – partly out of a nervous kind of relief and partly out of the indistinct wanderings of his still cloudy mind. Jeremy was, not for the first time that night, totally bewildered…

"She's going to be alright, Erik," he said, putting his hand on Erik's shoulder.

"I know… she has to be, you see," he whispered, placing his own hand underneath Christine's on top of her stomach. "I could not function without her…" Suddenly he turned towards Jeremy and looked quite lucidly into his eyes. "I love her, Jeremy, and I make no excuses for that fact."

"Nor should you…"

* * *

A while later, Jeremy was sitting in the chair by Christine's bed as Erik slept in an unusual position by her side. Christine had not actually wakened up yet and Erik, having been still groggy from the drugs and overcome with relief that she was alright, had fallen asleep in a precarious position upon her shoulder. Jeremy had no intention of waking him, though… one did not separate the masked man from his beloved and get away unscathed. 

After a short time, two policemen came through the curtains into the cubicle and asked to talk to him. He was really quite exhausted by now as he had been up for countless hours and was, himself, overcome with relief, but he agreed provided that he would be allowed to remain as he was.

They asked the usual run-of-the-mill type questions and got answers little different from the ones Ada Giry had provided their colleagues with. And, as they asked him more involved things about Erik and Christine, he found himself yawning quite regularly… until, eventually, they had to give up their questioning for the night as he had fallen asleep in the chair right in front of them just as he had been speaking.

They had learned a few things of worth from him though… enough, at least, to go on until they could question him again – and hopefully he would be awake next time.

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, November 2005

Any revising will be done when I get back from my music lesson. Enjoy...


	16. Chapter 15: To End a War

**Et Velle Et Perficere**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own POTO… but I do own Jeremy, Michael, Sarah and Marcus Christie.

**A/N:** I know… I'm absolutely bloody terrible. Not only have I not updated this in ages, but, just as I promised updates to be getting back to normal, I find myself faced with a surprise practical exam on Friday that I really have to study for and, therefore, have been unable to find much time to write. But, I promise that I'll never just stop half way through a story with no intention of continuing. I'm too stubborn for that. I'm writing as often as I can manage and I hope to get some more updates posted when I can, but I can't promise how quickly that'll be. I did not even anticipate updating this today but I thought it was about time to get a bloody move on with the story. I apologise if it is a bit rough around the edges.

Please read and review…

**Chapter 15: The Quickest Way of Ending a War is to Lose It…**

Erik had not left Christine's side once during the whole night for anything more trivial than going to the adjoining toilet. He was still half-sitting, half-lying beside her in, perhaps, a more comfortable position now with blankets over them both when Michael and Sarah came in looking consumed with worry.

They fussed over their beautiful daughter as Erik watched, feeling similarly worried over her. "Has she wakened up yet?" Michael asked him, quietly.

"No… the doctor said that, since she is considerably smaller than me, her body is taking longer to counteract the effects of the drugs."

"And how are you, Erik?"

"I'll be just fine when Christine wakens up," he replied, looking longingly at the face of the beautiful angel beside him.

"Won't we all…" Michael mumbled as he moved towards the still sleeping Jeremy in the bedside chair. His head was slumped against his shoulder in a way that looked rather painful and Michael gently touched his shoulder to waken him up as he moved to half-crouch at his feet so that he was almost level with him. "How are you?" he asked as Jeremy came round.

"I'll be holding my neck at a 45˚ angle for the next few days but I'll live… When did you get here?"

"Just now…"

"Michael," Jeremy said, getting up and dropping his jacket, which he had been using as a blanket, to the chair, unheeded. "I am so sorry… this is all my fau–"

"Don't be ridiculous," Michael cut him off, standing now, too. "This isn't _your_ fault… how can you be expected to look after every single pupil every second of every day…"

"It's my job to do so…"

"Jeremy, it's not solely _your_ responsibility… you played no active role in doing this to them, therefore, you are not to blame… Come on, I bet you need to stretch your legs after a night in that chair… let's go get something to eat," he said, pressing a hand against Jeremy's shoulder to get him to move. "Christine will have more than enough attention from Sarah and Erik, I'm sure… you have earned a break."

* * *

"Angel? Oh, thank God," Erik gasped, bringing Christine closer to him as she started to stir for the first time in hours. "I was so scared you wouldn't waken up." Michael and Sarah had gone down to the cafeteria with Jeremy to talk and convince the poor man that it was in no way his fault, leaving Christine in the capable and very willing care of their foster son. They also believed that he would want some time alone with her and, after finding that she was technically alright and unlikely to wake up very quickly, they had allowed him that.

Groggily, she brought a hand to her forehead and moaned, her head throbbing like it never had before. She felt like she was in some sort of fog and absolutely nothing was clear to her. "Erik? Where are we?" Of all things, she knew she could always count on him to be there with her – going through whatever she was going through, merely because he would not stand her being alone as he had been.

"Don't be frightened, Christine… we're in the hospital. But you'll be fine, I promise you." Removing his Angel's hand from her forehead delicately, he brought his up to stroke her temples softly in the hopes of bringing her some comfort.

Spending a moment basking in his soothing massage as the dull pain slowly slipped away from her, she tried to grasp a memory that seemed permanently just beyond her reach. She struggled with her uncooperative mind for several minutes and then gave up, exhausted. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?" he asked, aware of his own absence of memory of the event in question. She shook her head and bit her lip, wondering if she'd be able to open her heavy eyelids anytime soon.

"It does not matter right now, my Angel. Let us just concentrate on getting you better first."

After a long silence, she finally managed to open her eyes properly and blinked in perplexed surprise. "I'm confused…"

"It's alright, you are still recovering… Do not try to speak yet. I'll get the doctor." And, with that, he hopped off of the bed, hurrying out of the ward before she'd had the chance to satisfy all of the questions that were floating around in her head.

He returned shortly later with the consultant and Christine's parents in tow, all eager to see her awake. And she sighed as they hurried over to her in a flurry of blurred figures, reminding her that she was not yet well enough to do anything but lie there and be subjected to all this unwanted attention. She still could not remember what she felt she needed to.

"Christine, oh, thank God you are alright!" her father said quickly, grasping her tightly between himself and his wife, so happy was he to find her conscious. Truly, it had been a terribly frightening experience to have received the phone call from Jeremy the night before and then have to rush all the way down to see her at the hospital. Never did he want to see her lying in a hospital bed again.

"You're crowding her," Erik complained, trying to put a little distance between his Christine and her extensive family unit. "Let her recover on her own." He believed he knew his Angel better than anyone, even her own parents, and he could see that they were making her uncomfortable in her newly-awakened state. He prided himself in knowing every little nuance of her spirit and was secretly glad when she smiled up at him in gratitude. Then he pushed his feelings aside and stood back as the doctor examined her, battling with his fears that something somewhere was wrong with her.

* * *

A while later, when Christine was finally coherent and filled in on what had happened to her, she was sitting up in the hospital bed with Erik behind her as they just waited to be discharged since she had been found to be alright. Her parents and Jeremy had gone to the cafeteria to get something to eat while Erik and Christine found themselves talking to a couple of policemen, who had been let in to see them. They had been there earlier but now was the first time they had come that the young woman had been lucid enough to question… they would have already questioned the young man but he had refused to leave her side for something so, at the time, _unworthy_ of his attention.

"Do you know who spiked your drink, Miss Daaé?" the first police officer asked.

"No… I… my memory still isn't too clear… I remember, though, that I wasn't alone when I passed out…"

"Do you know who you were with?"

"No… but I know I bumped into someone when I came out of St. Patrick's after being in Jeremy's room… and then I took a drink and I didn't feel right…" she trailed off.

"Who's Jeremy?"

Christine wondered at what point she had started calling him Jeremy and couldn't quite remember. "Jeremy Harper-Matthews – my teacher…"

The two policemen shared a suspicious glance and moved on as one of them wrote the name down for further questioning. "What were you doing in _Jeremy's_ room?"

Erik glared at the policemen as his Angel struggled to remember… "I'm not sure…"

"Do you remember anything else?" She took a moment to think and then shook her head vaguely. They turned their attention towards Erik… "Do you know who spiked _your_ drink, Mr. Phelps-Jones?"

Erik cringed at the name – he hated being called after the people who had supposedly brought him into the world just to abandon him… but unfortunately, he could not change his name yet… and it was the least of his worries. "I… I remember walking towards St. Patrick's… Christine had left with Jeremy a while back and I think I must have been going to see her… but I never made it and I don't recall why…"

"Do you remember actually seeing Jeremy before you passed out?"

"Yes…" Erik said, bringing to mind the blurry figure of a man he had seen just as he blacked out – he was sure it had been Jeremy… "He was standing over Christine in the lift…" he finished, more to himself than anyone else.

The policemen shared another, more dubious, look and wrote a few more reasons down that they should formally interview this Jeremy. They knew that both Christine and Erik had been drugged with the same stuff and in the same way – at the minute, they were looking for just one person… simplest answer and all that. After all, both of them were found on the same floor within yards of each other and had remembered seeing Jeremy Harper-Matthews before passing out. The words 'open and shut' came to the first officer's mind as he flipped his notepad closed and excused them from the room, leaving Erik and Christine blissfully unaware that they had just incriminated a completely innocent man.

* * *

"Mr. Harper-Matthews, we'd like to talk to you down at the station…"

"Can't this wait?" he asked, picking out a magazine for Christine in the hospital's shop so that she wouldn't get too bored.

The two police officers stood imposingly, one on each side of him. "I'm afraid, sir, that it can't… You can either leave with us now willingly, or we can put you in handcuffs and forcibly take you to the station… it's your choice."

Jeremy looked at the man, completely confused, "Handcuffs? Why the hell would you put _me _in handcuffs? What have _I_ done?"

The first officer folded his arms across his chest as Jeremy gave up looking along the shelves. "We have reason to believe you may be involved in the drugging of Erik Phelps-Jones and the drugging and attempted-rape of Christine Daaé…"

"_What_?"

"Sir, will you come willingly?"

"Yes," Jeremy answered at last, having no intention of being dragged away, restrained. He felt humiliated as they led him outside to the police car and made him sit in the back. "What makes you think that _I_ did it?"

"You have been placed at the scene by both of the victims and you were last to see either of them before they passed out…" the first officer said as his colleague drove towards the police station.

"Let me ask you this then – if I had wanted to rape Christine, why would I have called an ambulance and you bloody lot before I did anything? And why would I have drugged Erik, hmm?" Jeremy was incensed now – he couldn't believe he was being taken to a police station for questioning over the drugging of two people he loved dearly.

"All in due time, Mr. Harper-Matthews…"

* * *

"Where do you think he could be?" Christine asked Erik.

"I don't know, sweetheart… he said he'd be right back with your magazine."

"He can't have gotten lost… can he?"

"I would not think so, Angel – the school is bigger than this place and he manages fine there, where they do not have signs and wandering nurses to ask for directions…" Erik said, watching her beautiful face as she looked confused. It was odd to be attracted to someone's confusion… but he found it utterly endearing on her.

"Then where is he?"

"I don't know, my love… but if he's had a heart attack, he's in the best bloody place for it."

Christine gasped and hit him solidly on his arm. "Don't say that… I don't want him to have a heart attack."

"Oh, darling, you are so precious… you cannot give him a heart attack by mentioning it…" he said softly.

"Still, I would prefer it if you did not refer so easily to something life-threatening…"

"You have a very gentle heart, my Christine," he said, kissing just below her ear. "However, I have often thought upon death, and I find it the least of all evils."

"How can you say that? If you were to die, it'd _kill_ me…" she cried, "Don't you want to live… for _me_?"

"I want to do a lot more than _that_ for you… Forgive me, my love, I did not know the subject would upset you so…"

"Well, it does…" she huffed.

He laughed at her pouting and laughed even more when she shot a glare at him for laughing in the first place… oh, she was _adorable_. "Mmm, feisty, my little Angel…" he purred into her ear, more in order to make her laugh than anything else as he started nipping lightly at her earlobe, succeeding in his quest. "Let me pay more attention to the act of _living_, then…" He ran the tip of his tongue all around the grooves of her ear, making her wriggle as it tickled and he laughed again. "Mmm, we must argue more often…" He lifted her upper body off the hospital bed and tilted her head right back, paying the same attention to her lovely neck and the underside of her chin as he revelled in the feeling of her speaking as he did so.

"It was hardly an argument…"

"Well, my love, the quickest way of ending a war is to lose it… and I am not ashamed to admit that I rather like losing if it means tasting you like this…" He felt a sudden attraction towards her shoulder, and so, he sat behind her, resting her upper body against his as he lowered his chin to rest on the shoulder of the black pyjama top she was wearing, where he nuzzled her neck softly. It was by far the furthest they had ever gone, considering she had only just agreed to go out with him the night before but they would both have agreed that it was an amazing sensation as they sat so closely together and she drew her knees up to rest her face against them as he rubbed her other arm up and down. Erik was enjoying it so much, in fact, that he was quite put out to have been disturbed by the sound of footsteps coming into the room.

He immediately straightened them, though remained sitting behind her as he found it a position he quite liked, having her resting against his chest like that – even with completely innocent intentions.

"Where have _you_ been?" Christine asked Jeremy as he trudged back into the room, a solemn look upon his face. "I sent you for a magazine and you didn't come back for five hours… _without_ my magazine, I see…"

Jeremy didn't know what to say… he didn't exactly want to tell Erik and Christine that he'd almost been arrested for what had happened to them. In truth, the police had let him go due to lack of sufficient evidence to detain him and had dropped him off at the hospital a few minutes ago, warning him that they might need to speak to him again in the near future. He was not looking forward to that… but first he had to deal with the situation at hand…

"Sorry, love, I didn't mean to take so long but something came up and I couldn't get out of it…" He paused, waiting to see if they would question him further but they did not… their manners were much better than he had given them credit for, perhaps. "So, anyway, Mr. and Mrs. Blue Eyes… how's the marriage going?"

"As well as can be expected when both husband and wife are drugged and end up in hospital the night of the wedding…" Christine sighed.

"Quite…" Jeremy agreed. "Can I get you anything? Something to eat…?"

"God, no… we wouldn't see you for dust," Christine laughed, leaning back against Erik and smiling happily that Jeremy was back now.

"I'll miss you," Jeremy told Christine as they stood beside her parents' car. She and Erik had just been discharged from the hospital and Michael and Sarah were going to take them home to Croft Manor until the situation had been resolved and the culprits caught.

"It'll hopefully only be for a few days…" she said back. "I just… If I went back to Garron Tower now, I don't think I'd feel safe… not being able to remember anything about it or who did it… I need to feel safe, Jeremy. Something much worse could have happened to me…"

"I know, Blue Eyes… but it won't stop me missing the pair of you…" he smiled. "Which reminds me… are you going to tell your parents about you and Erik?"

"We discussed it while you absconded earlier… Erik thinks we should wait until we're ready to tell them… if it lasts that long, I suppose… you won't tell them, will you?"

"No, Blue Eyes… it's your place to decide when you're ready to tell them… my friendship with your father will not overshadow my friendship with you – I shan't play devil's advocate between you. Now, come on…" he said, helping her into the back of the car as Michael, Sarah and Erik came towards them from the hospital. "I expect a phone-call everyday until you return, do you hear me?"

"Yes, _Father_…" she laughed.

"Do you need a lift?" Michael asked Jeremy.

"Hmm…" He hadn't thought about that… "I don't have my car because I came in the ambulance… but I don't want to make Erik and Christine uncomfortable by taking them back there."

"We have to go back sometime, Jeremy," Christine said, moving into the middle seat in the back so that he could sit down next to them.

As Jeremy got in, Erik couldn't help feeling thankful that Christine was now squeezing against him so enticingly. Their proximity meant that he could smell her gorgeous hair and could almost rest his head atop hers. It was a delicious feeling being so near an angel…

* * *

"What the hell are we supposed to do?" Raoul hissed at Carlotta on Monday morning, just after she had gotten in on the bus. He had pulled her round the side of the chapel to discuss the whole drugging incident since he hadn't seen her since that night.

"Will you calm down… they don't know that it was us… they don't even really suspect us…"

"How can you know that?"

"What are you worrying about? Christine and Erik are out of hospital now – if either one of them had remembered anything, don't you think the police would have arrested us by now?" she said calmly.

"But don't you even care that we got them in hospital in the first place? It was _your_ fault, in fact – you said that it wouldn't knock them out – you lied…" he accused.

"Don't you try to blame this on me, Raoul de Chagny – if you say anything I'll drop you in it… I didn't hold a gun to your head and make you give it to her so you're as much to blame as I am. Besides," Carlotta said, a grin spreading across her face. "Guess who I heard was arrested for it yesterday…"

Raoul was indignant. "This isn't a game, Carlotta…"

"No? Then why do we seem to be winning…?" she laughed. "Anyway… it was Harper-Matthews who was arrested for drugging Erik and Christine _and_ for attempted rape…" She smiled wickedly and Raoul felt sick.

"_Attempted rape!_ Mr. Harper-Matthews? He was arrested…? I mean, my God, is he still there?"

"Who cares?" she shrugged.

"You're insane… He's been arrested for something _we_ did and you don't even care… Jeremy Harper-Matthews is no more of a nonce than Windsor Castle is a dodgy little backstreet brothel – you _know_ he'd never touch her like that… certainly not try to _rape_ her… this is serious – they're like father and daughter – can you imagine what this'll do to their relationship… not to mention his reputation…" Raoul hissed out of utter fury.

"Oh, lighten up – they probably won't charge him…"

"Oh my God," he said, shaking his head in disbelief, "I'm talking to a psychopath…"

"You just remember that… it's the only thing keeping your head above water."

* * *

"If you happen to find my will to live over there, do bring it over," Christine grumbled from her place on the bed in her room. Her parents and Erik had insisted that she stay in bed for a few days after she had almost fainted when she had gotten out of the car at home.

"I have never heard anybody complain so bloody much about getting a few days off school before…" Erik said, setting a tray with her lunch on it in front of her as he sat down beside her.

"I'd rather be at school than stuck here in bed… you don't know what it's like."

"Stop your whingeing and eat your food, Angel… when you get back, you'll wish you were here, again."

Christine was going to say something back when she was interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing. "Hello?"

"Hey, Christine, it's Raoul… How are you?"

"Oh, hi, Raoul… What can I say? – I've been better…" she said, holding back her laughter as Erik snorted at the sound of his name.

"Of course, of course… Listen, I just wanted speak to you… make sure you were alright. I won't keep you… I just… I heard about Mr. Harper-Matthews…"

"You heard what exactly about Mr. Harper-Matthews?" she asked, sharing a confused look with Erik.

"About him being arrested…"

"_Arrested?_ When? What _for_?"

"Yesterday… for drugging the two of you… and for your… attempted rape…" he said, uncomfortably.

Christine was suddenly aware that that was where he had disappeared to the day before and she felt guilty for having teased him. "He never said…" she whispered. "I know it was not him… He would _never_ do such a thing…"

"I know…" Raoul agreed. "Look, I've kept you long enough… you should concentrate on getting yourself well… you'll feel better once you've rested."

_You'll feel better once you've rested… You'll feel **better** once you've **rested**…_

What did that remind her so vaguely of?

She was shocked, dropping the phone and looking at Erik in panic, she started to breathe shallowly.

"Christine, my darling, what is it? What's wrong?" Erik asked hastily.

"_Oh, my God…_"

"Christine, Christine, please… what is it?" He removed the phone from her lap and placed his hands upon her shoulders. "Michael," he shouted at the top of his lungs as she continued to breathe irregularly. "Michael, come quickly."

Michael ran into the room several seconds later, panicking himself at the state his daughter appeared to be in. "Breathe deeply, Christine… Christine, slow down… darling, I'm here… shh…" he said, stroking her upper arms to try to calm her down.

It was a few minutes until her breathing returned to normal enough that she could speak and she took some seconds more to compose herself. She looked down at the spilt breakfast all over her bedcovers and sighed as she pushed them away from herself. "Daddy, it was Raoul… who spiked my drink… I remember now – he said something that reminded me… it was Raoul. Daddy, it was Raoul," she cried.

"Raoul? You're sure?" Michael asked, sceptically.

"It was him, Daddy… I know it was."

"I'll take care of it…" he said as he left to phone the policeman in charge of the investigation.

"It was that _toff_… that bloody _spiv_ who did this to you?" Erik asked, livid. "I'll break his bloody neck…"

And he would, of that he would make sure…

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, October 2005

I'm sorry that the end was so rushed… I just do not have time to fix it as yet. I thought it better to update than not at all, though. Please, review, pester and inspire, lovely reviewers.


	17. Chapter 16: Wanting More

**Et Velle Et Perficere**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own POTO… but I do own Jeremy, Peter and Richmal.

**A/N:** It has been _too_ long…

Please read and review…

**Chapter 16: Wanting More Will Leave You with Less than Nothing…**

A week later, on Sunday, Christine and Erik were back at Garron Tower… Raoul had been arrested by the police when Christine's father had phoned them, promptly dropping Carlotta in it for drugging Erik – he was not going to take the blame for the whole thing – and she had been arrested too. They were released reasonably quickly when the police had learned of the intentions they had had when committing the act… they were then let off with a formal caution and the police had told Christine and Erik that the case would not be brought before a court. They were, however, perfectly allowed to sue Raoul and Carlotta through private proceedings and there was an injunction placed against them so that they could not go anywhere near Erik or Christine. Therefore, Raoul and Carlotta were also to be suspended from school…

Needless to stay, Raoul and Carlotta's families were livid with them and Carlotta's father especially was intensely disappointed – he had apologised profusely to Erik, Christine and her parents and had offered to have Carlotta move schools permanently… he hadn't opposed the legal proceedings either. Christine could not help feeling guilty towards Richmal for dragging him into it… he was always so kind to her and had been such a good family friend for years. She did not want to hurt him…

Christine had expected something so callous to be started by Carlotta – but she had never expected it from Raoul… she was at a loss for what to do about him. Neither she nor Erik had come to a final decision about taking the two of them to court.

Currently, Christine was sitting with her head in her hands at a table with Erik, their headmaster, a couple of the more senior members of staff, Raoul's brother and Carlotta's father. Jeremy was pacing furiously behind her…

"That's not good enough, Peter," he shouted. "They should be expelled not suspended – they drugged two other students and put them in hospital. For God's sake, Raoul de Chagny gave Christine the date-rape drug then tore her dress as she tried to get away from him – how can you defend him when you have no idea what he could have done to her had she _not_ gotten away?"

"I'm not defending him, Jeremy… I merely do not see why the education of two otherwise fine students should suffer over a prank that got out of hand…"

Jeremy stopped pacing behind Christine's chair and placed his hands comfortingly on her shoulders. "Cobblers, Peter, and you know it… It is not their education you are worried about – it is their families' continued monetary support… You'd never let them back in the gates if they weren't patrons – two bloody wretches who support with insolence, and are paid with flattery…"

Neither Philip nor Richmal moved to defend their brother or daughter respectively, as they were both ashamed of what their family member had done to the two people sitting in front of them… and Christine was so obviously upset that it would be in bad taste to try to trivialise what she had gone through.

"You are entitled to your opinion, Jeremy," the Headmaster said. "However, I think the rest of us would agree that you are rather biased…"

"_Biased?_ How can one be _biased_ towards the two victims in all of this?" he scoffed.

"Jeremy, your concerns are duly noted and I can assure you that we will be monitoring the situation… but we still feel it is necessary that everyone involved be able to move on from this without more of a break in the normal routine of things."

"Who is this '_we_' you are referring to, Peter, hmm? The royal 'we' perhaps because, as far as I can see, you are the only one whose mouth is opening and crap is flowing out…"

"Can I say something?" Christine, who had remained silent throughout, said, looking up with tears glistening in her eyes. "I'll never look upon Raoul in the same light again – he saw to that when he put me in hospital – and I have no desire to ever speak to him again… but, so long as you keep him away from me and out of the same room or space as me at all times… then I think I could live with having him remain at Garron Tower. It is a huge school after all, I'm sure you'll manage. The same goes for Carlotta…" She paused, placing her hand above Richmal's on the table. "If, by the end of a time I see fit, they have sufficiently been kept out of mine and Erik's way, then I will not pursue legal action for your sake, Richmal and Philip… I never meant either of you to get involved. Of course, you will have to make sure Erik agrees…"

Erik could live with that – after all, there were much more interesting ways to hurt Raoul and Carlotta than by suing them for money they could afford to lose and Christine and Erik did not need. Much more interesting ways, indeed…

"Whatever Christine feels is appropriate, I will accept…" he agreed.

"May I add…" Jeremy started without waiting for an answer. "If any further incidents occur… Miss Daaé and Mr. Phelps-Jones will be well within their rights to sue not only Miss Sinclair and Mr. de Chagny… but also the school itself." He helped Christine out of her chair and led her out of the room with Erik following. "Put _that_ in your pipe and smoke it…"

* * *

Three weeks passed without incident and Carlotta and Raoul were finally allowed to return to school, though Raoul would no longer be permitted to board there, at all… and neither of them was to be in any of Christine or Erik's classes. Unfortunately, as soon as Raoul set eyes on Christine, he took it upon himself to go right up to her and explain what he had done, disregarding completely the new rules set upon him concerning her.

"Christine," he said, cornering her in the locker room. He only wished to explain himself but did not give proper thought to how she would feel, being alone in a small dark room with him blocking the only door. "Listen, Christine, I'm sorry…"

Christine nervously backed as far away from him as she could and remained silent, hoping that he would leave without touching her.

"Oh, Christine… I'm not going to hurt you… I never meant to hurt you before either… I just wanted you to see him for the pillock that he is… I wanted there to be more between us…" he said, spreading his hands.

"Wanting more has left you with less than nothing…" she whispered.

"I know that now… I was stupid, I know… I regret it more than anything I've ever done in my life. Can't you learn to forgive me? I hate myself for ruining what we had…"

"I hate you for ruining it too."

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jeremy shouted at Raoul as he came in behind him. Christine could not begin to describe how relieved she felt that he was there to protect her should the need arise. Raoul really had meant no harm… but she was not to know that – and neither was Jeremy, as he disregarded the whole thing about teachers not being allowed to touch pupils, and backed Raoul into a corner like Raoul had done to Christine.

Jeremy brought his face to just inches away from Raoul's and placed his hand threateningly at Raoul's neck. "If you come anywhere near her again, Raoul de Chagny, I'll break every bone in your bloody body," he hissed. "And don't think that I won't… when it comes to my Blue Eyes, you would do well _not_ to underestimate me." He smiled wickedly and patted Raoul's shoulder in a mock-friendly way before backing away from him and pulling Christine along by the hand. "I want you to tell me if he ever does anything threatening towards you again, do you understand me?"

Christine nodded her head hastily and spent several minutes alone in her room to compose herself before she went back to class. More and more often recently, she had been having difficulty keeping calm… it was small things at first, things one could chalk up to nothing, really – loud sudden noises making her jump, being shy around people she had not met before… things like that. But it had become more – she had started having small panic attacks and was spending more and more time on her own or in the shadow of Jeremy or Erik. It worried her but she didn't know what to do about it and she was too embarrassed to say anything… she took the ostrich's way out and tried to pretend it wasn't there.

* * *

After that incident in the locker room, things seemed to calm down somewhat – Raoul avoided Christine, Erik _and_ Jeremy at all costs… Carlotta did not go out of her way to go near them either… and everything else returned to the way it had been before Guy Fawkes Night.

"Christine, I wanted to talk with you," Erik said, pulling a chair up next to hers in the library. They were the only two people there apart from the librarian so it was quiet enough that he felt comfortable.

"What is it, Erik?"

"You remember they told us in Careers that the first applications to university have to be in by the start of January…? Well, it's December now and I thought you might like to look at some prospectuses together… we can help each other decide where we want to go," he said timidly. In truth, he cared little what the universities had to offer him – he would go wherever Christine did... so, he would help choose the best one for her and he would follow.

Christine smiled at his tentativeness and nodded as he sat down. She placed her book down on the table and turned in her chair so that she could talk to him face to face.

"Do you have any places in mind, Angel? Or a particular subject…?" he asked.

"Mmm… yes. I've already decided – my first choice is The Conservatoire… I know we get six choices but… I've written them _somewhere_…" she said, lifting a folder out of her bag to look. "But we can decide where _you_ want to go, Erik… Any ideas, yourself…? The courses I want to do have application dates in March so I've got time before then – I think only Oxbridge has to be in by January… you don't want to go there, do you?"

Erik was slightly disappointed that she'd already decided without him but he recovered himself from such irrational thinking and shook his head. "No, I don't think I'll be going to Oxbridge… I was also considering a more Drama/Music-based career… something _behind_ the scenes, of course… but theatrical, none the less."

"Perhaps I should show you the prospectuses for the two I've chosen, then…" she said, getting them out of the folder and placing them in front of him. He subtly favoured the one she had named as her first choice and looked through it in detail for a course more pertaining to him. "Daddy helped me choose them… he and Mum went to the Conservatoire, though they weren't there at the same time… They met when Daddy was one of the visiting artists at the production my mum's fourth-year class put on. She was just a student and he was already an established performer/director… but they were married before the year was out," she said sentimentally, smiling to herself.

Erik's heart warmed at her little story and her obvious happiness, finding himself mirroring her smile. "I didn't know that…" he murmured, stroking her hand gently.

"Well, I'll leave them with you to look over… Apart from that, have you written your Personal Statement yet?"

Erik groaned… he'd been dreading doing that. It was such a waste of bloody time and he had no idea what to put in it… and there was another reason he didn't want to write it…

"No… no, I haven't, Angel… have you?"

"Yes… Look, I know it's bothering you – why don't we work on it together… you can look at mine and we can change it to suit you…" she said, encouragingly.

"You are very kind, my precious Angel."

The two of them spent the next three-quarters of an hour or so rewriting hers to make it suitable for him and, different enough, not to have looked copied. Then, she sighed dramatically and put all of her things away, leaning back in her chair. "Thank God that's over… I had forgotten how much I _hated_ writing that thing. Now, all you have to do is copy it out again neatly on the good paper…" she said, moving to stand. Erik, however, made no move or sound…

"What's wrong?" Christine asked.

"Nothing…"

"Then, why don't I believe you?"

"Really, Angel, it's nothing…"

"Erik," she said firmly, lifting her hand to turn his head around so she could see his face as she stood half behind him. "Tell me what it is… I'm supposed to be your angel, not to mention, your girlfriend… or had you forgotten?"

Erik smiled. "How could I ever forget that I am the most fortunate man in the entire world?" he said, then sobered, looking down at his shoulder instead of at her. "If you must know, darling – then, look…" He leaned down to his own bag and lifted out one of the only essays he hadn't typed.

Christine was confused but took the sheet from him and looked at it. She breathed a sigh as she realised his problem… the writing was scratchy and inelegant – almost illegible and totally unlike what she had expected of him, and perhaps, that was why he seemed so ashamed of it. "This isn't so bad, Erik – we can fix this… Has anybody ever helped you with it before?"

"No, Angel… when one grows up in a care home with so many other children, one either learns to write with one's right hand or one does not learn, at all."

"Well, we don't have to have our Personal Statements in until we apply for university… if you go to one of the ones I've chosen then that's mid-March – we can work on your handwriting together and it'll be perfect by then," she encouraged.

"Thank you, for your immense compassion, Angel." He drew in a contended breath as he felt her lean up against his back and reach over him to place her left hand on top of his.

She placed a pen between his fingers correctly with her other hand and settled their joined hands against the pad. "Just move your hand with mine, Erik – I'll guide you… when you learn how to hold your hand to get the right shape, I'll let you practise on your own."

At the moment, Erik would admit to wanting never to be able to hold his hand properly, just so that she would keep pressing herself against him so and holding hands so tenderly. For a while he just watched as she moved their hands along the paper ever so slowly, already making an improvement in the structure of his letters and the way he was holding his pen. She was already the most influential part of his life and he couldn't help feeling special when she went out of her way to help the little things that bothered or hindered him. Eventually, he turned his head to look over his right shoulder at her face, just inches away from him…

Christine was enthralled with how tender the look he was giving her was… she couldn't help leaning down further and kissing him, forgetting about the writing. He dropped the pen and brought his now free hand up to her cheek to bring her closer as he turned around more to kiss her properly. Christine was surprised at how wonderful the awkward position was and was startled when Liam, the librarian, came out of the office carrying an encyclopaedia. He had his head down looking at the opened book so he had not seen what Christine and Erik were doing… nevertheless, they broke apart and gathered their things in a fluster as they hurried off to continue somewhere else.

Liam was baffled…

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, October 2005


	18. Chapter 17: It is Strange

**Et Velle Et Perficere**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own POTO… but I do own Jeremy, James and Jules. I don't remember where the quote at the end was from... I'll look it up later.

**A/N:** Thank you all, dear reviewers, and I hope you enjoy this update... I'm sorry it's been so long.I wrote this _ages_ ago. If you get a chance, have a look at my new story **Let Me Be Your Hero**.

Please read and review…

**Chapter 17:** **It is Strange What a Man May Do…**

A week later, Erik and Christine's Music class had just gotten to London where they would be staying for a three-day field trip before leaving off for the Christmas holidays. There were only five in this particular class – Christine, Erik, Meg, James and Jules, as Carlotta had been removed – so only two teachers were needed to take them – Mr. Harper-Matthews and Mrs. Giry. They were all staying at an auxiliary off-grounds school building which was used for their regular field trips and run by caretakers for the rest of the year.

It was late night when they got there and everyone headed off to bed in the old-style dormitory with the creaky old bunk beds. There was only one dormitory in the building so all seven of them were in together… though there were separate changing rooms, of course, and everyone got changed into their pyjamas as soon as they arrived…

"Which one do you want, Angel?" Erik asked Christine as he carried their bags in.

She chose the top bunk against the back wall and Erik immediately commandeered the one right below her. He then chivalrously handed her up, as there were no ladders, and made sure she was settled before getting into bed, himself. Meg and James did the same in the beds adjacent to theirs… Next to them, Mrs. Giry took the bottom bunk and Jules took the top, leaving Jeremy all on his own.

"Pfft," he scoffed. "I don't need you lot anyway. I'm perfectly happy all by myself over here in the corner…" He was even more annoyed when nobody said anything or made any noise other than the sound of the lamp being turned off. "Fine, then… Don't think I'll forget this… Just you wait until tomorrow when you need me to–"

"Jesus, Jeremy… will you shut your gob?" Christine shouted over to him in the dark, cutting him off.

"The bloody cheek…" he huffed, quietly.

Not half an hour later, all of them were asleep… well, all bar one…

Erik was still awake, listening to the sounds of everyone else breathing softly… it was hard for him to be back in this sort of environment – reminded him too much of the care home he had been banished to not so many months ago. Though, it seemed like a lifetime ago now… and he would not go back for all the world – he had an angel now… an angel he would have to protect and care for, and he would not leave her ever again. He would fight the Lord himself to keep her…

His thoughts trailed off in that direction and occupied him for the next several hours before he was disturbed by a large white shape moving swiftly at his right. He had not been quite sure he had seen anything other than the over-workings of his tired mind but he sat up, anyway, to look at the shape and let his eyes adjust to it as it moved. However, he realised quite quickly that he had seen something and that it was a person – a person heading quickly towards the door of the room and out into the hallways… so, he raised himself silently from the bed to follow them.

He stood up and turned to look into Christine's bunk to check on her one last time before heading out after the person he had seen… and he turned three shades of white when he found that Christine was missing from her bed, coming to the realisation that she had been the shape he had seen. He didn't know what she was doing up at this time of night but he didn't like the idea of her wandering about the old building on her own… Lord knows what could happen – and Erik was very much the overprotective boyfriend, for lack of a better word, that Christine knew him to be.

He quietly hurried out the door after her in a bid not to lose her but was unable to locate her in the subsequent darkness of the windowless hallway. He could not rationally make sense of how worried he had become at her disappearance but hastily followed the corridor that he assumed she would have taken, passing the kitchen and the old classroom without finding her.

He spent a few moments at the turn in the hallway, debating going back the other way to look for her when he heard something resembling a shriek coming from up ahead of him. He immediately set off running towards it and found himself standing in the entranceway to the old shower-room, staring at the back of a reasonably fat man as he appeared to be leaning against the wall.

Again, he heard the shriek and realised to his utter fury that the man was not leaning against the wall, but actually pinning Christine to it. With a cry of absolute rage, Erik tore her from him and brought the sobbing girl against his chest to check her over. "Are you hurt, my love?" She shook her head, burying her face in the shoulder of his pyjamas. "You're sure? He has not _touched_ you?"

"No…" she sobbed. "Thank God you came…"

"You…" the man hissed. "What are _you _doing here? How did you ever manage to wrangle your way into a school like that?"

Erik looked back up at him and gritted his teeth as he saw the face of a man he'd rather forget – an old foster parent, if one could even call him that, who had been of less than exemplary character, one could say. He had been heavy with his hands, not only on all of the children he had fostered, that Erik knew of, but also his wife… not to mention, his other unsavoury habits with the young girls who had once been under his care. Erik could remember them sometimes being brought back – in tears and too scared to say anything to anyone, though they all knew what was wrong but could do nothing if they didn't tell them themselves. He would never let that happen to Christine…

"Nothing to say? Too scared, perhaps…"

"I am positively shivering in my little silk booties," Erik said, dryly, moving Christine behind him and out of harm's way. From the clothes the man was wearing, it was clear that he was the night caretaker there – something of not much concern or danger to others until the building was in use…

The man laughed heartily at that and shook his head, causing Erik to be filled with such rage at the uncaring and positively smug persona of the person who had been one of so many to _get around _the system.

For a moment, Erik turned behind himself, keeping a watch on the man out of the corner of his eye, and touched Christine's shoulder gently. "Angel," he whispered. "Go back to the dormitory and stay beside Jeremy – he will keep you safe for now… I'll be through in a few minutes."

"Erik, what are you–?"

"Just go…" he snapped, and watched briefly as she disappeared around the turn in the corridor.

Turning back to the man who had tried to touch his angel – _his­_ angel­­­­ – he gave him a quick glance up and down to estimate his threat to him… after all, no need to be complacent just because he was an unfit old nonce. Allowing the bastard to make the first move, Erik easily blocked a punch to his stomach and returned it with a quick blow to the man's jaw, snapping his head back momentarily. It gave him just enough time to knock the man's feet out from under him and pinned him easily to the dirty ground – Erik had grown a lot and gotten much better at fighting since the unfortunate time that he had been unable to defend himself against the fists of the man now beneath him on the floor. Erik felt a certain satisfaction that he could now look down upon him, whether they were both standing or not…

The man, however, did not really take to having done to him what he used to do to Erik and a number of others in his apparent care… so he struggled one fist free and managed to knock Erik quite powerfully in his upper chest – not hard enough to get him off but sufficient to stun him for a moment as he reached his other hand, unnoticed, into his back pocket trying to reach for a knife.

He stopped though when Erik asked him a question… "What were you going to do to her?"

"What does it matter to you anyway?" he laughed. "Is she your girlfriend? We both know how likely _that_ is…"

"Why her…? Is it because she's beautiful? Because she's an angel…?" Erik asked, his voice far more timid than he actually felt. But the thought of something so disgusting happening to his Angel – his girlfriend – his sweet Christine… it caused him to become desolate with grief.

"An _angel_…? What's gotten into you?"

Erik struck the man across the face as hard as he could in his anger and placed one hand around his throat, applying pressure immediately. "Fine, fine…" the man choked out. "Yes… she's beautiful but that's just a plus… I found her wandering around down here in her sleep and I saw the opportunity…"

Erik was incensed… He raised the man's head off the floor and struck it down sharply over and over again as his eyes began to roll up into the back of his head and a series of sickening thuds followed. The next thing he was consciously aware of was somebody pulling him by the shoulders away from the man and out of the now lit room…

"Erik," a very flustered-looking Jeremy said, holding him back against the hallway wall by the shoulders. "Erik… calm down. He's unconscious… she's safe… just leave it. Now, go back to the dorms and try not to wake anyone else up – just sit with Christine while I sort this… alright?"

* * *

When Jeremy returned to the dark dormitory later that night, he found Erik and Christine sitting in his bed with his blankets wrapped around them. They were both worried about what would happen now and Erik was painfully aware that he would be eighteen in a month and, if he were thrown out now, he would be on his own – something that no longer held any peace for him since he had met Christine. 

Christine looked up at Jeremy expectantly… "Don't worry," he whispered to calm her. "He's not here anymore – I called an ambulance and they've taken him away… he can't hurt you now…"

"Have you called the police too?" Erik asked, wondering when they would arrest him for beating the man up.

"No… I have no proof that he did anything… it's not as though they could charge him for anything serious or worthwhile. Trust me – I know…"

Erik was confused. "I meant – have you called them for _me_?"

"For _you_…? What should I do _that_ for? You were protecting Christine… I'll never let you be punished for that, Erik… If it came to it, I'd say it was me who had done it…" he said seriously.

Erik didn't know what to say – 'thank you' would just not do in this instance – and he was touched beyond belief at the length this man would go to, to protect his students.

"Now," Jeremy continued. "We can't stay here any longer – I think it'd be best if we went home soon… but I promise you that you'll never see that nonce again and he won't get you in trouble… he won't say a word, I assure you."

"What have you done?" Christine asked worriedly. "How do you know that he will not say anything?"

"Don't ask me that, pet… it's nothing _I've_ done… but people with his… _tendencies _don't tend to want to draw a lot of official attention to themselves."

"What about the others?" Christine asked after a pause. "They'll be disappointed – they'll want to know what happened."

"Leave them to me, sweetheart… I'll take care of it and I shan't involve the two of you either…"

* * *

Just under four hours later, everyone was back at Garron Tower… most were grumbling about having had to sit in a bus for four hours there, getting a measly few hours sleep and then having to go back on the bus for four hours again – but at least nobody knew what had really gone on. They were also upset about not getting to actually do anything in London before they had left again but they had quieted when Jeremy promised that they could go back sometime in the new year and they would do it properly… minus one dodgy night-caretaker. 

As it was starting to get light, most of them headed off to their own rooms to catch up on their missed sleep… but Erik remained behind, waiting for all of them to be out of sight before he made his way up the stairs of the old music tower and towards the beautiful old concert grand. He needed to relieve some of his tension and could not help turning to his music to do so… it had been so long – _too_ long, in fact – since he had played furiously and passionately to relax as usually the practice rooms were not private enough for his tastes.

It was not to be, however, as he heard footsteps following him up the stairs before Christine appeared in the doorway. He had not spoken much to her since the _incident_ as he was terribly afraid that he had upset her, scared her, even.

"I thought it was only Jeremy who sneaked off up here to play while everyone else was asleep…" she commented.

Erik stood up from the piano bench and bowed his head meekly before her. "You're not angry at me?" he asked, surprised. He was not the only one…

"Why should I be angry at you?"

"It's my fault that we had to come back here early… you loved it there – _love_ it there – and I made you have to leave…"

"It wasn't _your_ fault that we had to leave and I _do_ love it there… but not more than I love you," she said confidently, moving closer to him.

"You… you _love_ me?" He was utterly shocked and could not think of the proper way to respond to such a declaration – he supposed that was because he had never heard anyone tell him that they loved him before. "Do not fool with me, Christine – it would kill me if you did not mean it… if you are doing this just as some sort of sick joke then I need you to know the damage you will do…"

"I love you, my perfect Erik. I have wanted to tell you for so long but I was not ready – I am now…" She smiled brightly at him and watched as he realised her sincerity.

"You really love me?" he asked with heartbreaking hope lacing his voice.

"You're fast, aren't you, dearheart? I love you… and it feels amazing to say it."

"It is amazing to hear it, my angel… so much you would not imagine… oh, I love you so," he whispered, reverently touching her cheek as she smiled at him. He would never tire of hearing her tell him that – he only hoped she would continue to do so.

He was going to kiss her as he leaned forward but was interrupted by her placing a hand over her mouth as she yawned. "I'm sorry, Erik," Christine said. "I know this is not the time but I am just so tired – I'm going to go to bed now… alright?"

"Of course, sweetheart, take all the sleep you need – good thing we will not be expected to go to classes today… One more thing though – why didn't you tell me that you sleepwalk?"

"I suppose it never came up… and I haven't been doing it long… just a few weeks."

Now Erik was worried that something had caused her to suddenly start sleepwalking but was unable to voice his concerns as she disappeared down the stairs again without another word.

He sighed, sitting back down on the bench before once again being interrupted as her footsteps came quickly back up. "Oh, darling, what have you forgotten? Your kiss, perhaps…?" he called out to her.

"Much as I love you, Erik, I think I'll pass," Jeremy laughed, leaning against one of the old desks. Erik was mortified…

"Oh, this great tragedy of not being able to be alone," he muttered.

"If you want to be alone, Erik, you should not have come up here where you _know_ I come to play… You know, I thought _I_ was the only one around here who pretended to be the Black Butler… apart from Christine, of course."

"You are not the first person to have commented on that tonight," Erik said, bored.

"Mmm, quite… now, why don't you tell me about that little conversation I just heard…" He smiled warmly at him.

"Christine is beyond perfect," Erik sighed. "For her to say something like that to me is just… _unbelievable_… especially after what she witnessed tonight."

"It is strange what a man may do, and a woman think him an angel," Jeremy agreed.

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, November 2005


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